#fellow not-night people you just gotta find the right people

[matt-w-blogging]

Why is it that it's totally acceptable to say "oh sorry, I'm not a morning person" but when I say "oh sorry, I'm not a night person" it's all "aww okay" and "goodnight!" and "we'll miss you!" and "sleep well <3"

[hxzbinwrites]

Hi! I just saw that requests are open, yeah!! I'd like to request an Alastor x fem!Reader where Vox has a crush on her so he sends her a set of different tea flavor as a gift. The problem is that these contain a drug that inhibits the person (thanks, Valentino). Basically, his plan was to wait for her to drink the tea and then show up at the hotel and seduce her so he could have her for himself (my boy thinks she loves him, lol). The problem is that she had graciously offered the tea to Alastor, who drinks it. Vox asks her if she enjoyed the tea she lies saying it was delicious so he immediately shows up at the hotel but ends up finding Alastor who is being super affectionate with her, revealing his true feelings for her. Eventually Alastor attacks Vox as soon as he sees him forcing the other to flee. Fluff and comedy, basically. xD

Alastor x Fem! Reader x Vox | Tea Time Troubles

Warnings ⚠️:  Cussing, drugs, controlling and manipulative Vox, out of character Alastor.

"I dunno 'bout this Voxxy" Valentino said, handing him a baggie of the drug, a weak aphrodisiac lining the walls of the bag.

"Don't worry about me Valentino, I'll be fine" Vox reassured him, holding the bag up to his screened face. He smirked deviously as he put his hands behind his back.

"But you tell me all the time 'bout 'public image' and all that shit." Valentino retorted, crossing his lower arms against his stomach.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about it Honey" Vox sneered, rubbing his cheek in a falsely affectionate way. "Vox is a big boy and can handle himself. I just gotta put this into some tea bags. (Y/n) WILL be MINE."

"Ugh" The moth groaned, taking a puff of his cigar,"She's not even worth it. She hangs out with radio, fossil trash. If she was good shed know who to choose. Besides, I'm better than she is, right?"

"You're wrong." Vox said, his left eye radiating hypnotizing waves out of anger,"(Y/n) is perfect. She's everything, and she will be mine."

Vox's demonic laughter could be heard across the building, sending chills down anyone who heard it's spine.

--------

"Honey!!" (Y/n) exclaimed, holding up the box of tea that arrived at their house,"Your tea shipment came!"

Alastor, who was reading the paper at the kitchen table, looked over to see his dear (Y/n) carrying two large cardboard boxes.

He teleported over, making his shadows place them atop of the counter. His keen eyes narrowed at the second box, seemingly almost identical to the first one.

"How peculiar!" Alastor said, tapping his cane on the second box, almost poking it as if it was a foreign object.

"What's peculiar about it?" The fellow deer demon asked, peering over at the box her partner was so intrigued by.

"I did not order two shipments of tea from the catalogue this month!" He replied, his smile tightening in irritation. Could someone be trying to plant something in this hotel? Trying to hurt any of his friends, his beloved, or him?

"Maybe it's a promo box?" (Y/n) suggested,"I mean, you are a loyal customer of theirs. Maybe they want you to try a new product, I hear that's the new rage."

"Ah" Alastor replied, walking closer to the counter to rip open the second box to be met with a letter and a large box of tea.

"Thank you for your loyalty Mr. Alastor. We're reaching out to our most loyal customers to give this Promo box to! We're asking that you try our newest flavor, a (your favorite flavor) but with a twist! Despite the erratic sounds at night in Hell, this tea should help you fall right asleep! If you enjoy it, please promote so on your beloved Radio Show!"

"I was right!" The doe said, looking up at her partner,"They must've given it to you because they know you're famous and can promote their tea! Very smart people, I wanna try one tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? Why not today my doe?" Alastor said, looking down at his partner.

"My stomach isn't feeling the best. Charlie's cake wasn't fully cooked through, but I didn't want to be rude and not eat it. Especially because no one else was!"

Alastor chuckled, petting her sensitive ears. "Now now (Y/n), you should've listened to me! I know all!"

"Al..." She said, batting her eyes up at him,"Do you mind trying it for me? I wanna know if it's good, but I don't want to throw up in my sleep!"

"Why should I?" He inquired, smirking down at (Y/n). "It seems like this predicament could've been easily avoided my little doe! Hahaha!"

"Please" She softly asked, smiling at him back.

"I suppose I can try one cup of it." He said, sitting down at the table, fully expecting (Y/n) to make him the cup as he finished reading his paper.

She giggled at him and began to start the kettle. Moments like these can't be replaced, a docile and homey moment between the two of them. (Y/n) loved seeing this side of him. The Alastor side of him, not the Radio Demon.

(Y/n) opened the smaller box that was enclosed in the large one, picking out the first tea bag. She smelled the bag, the fumes of blended herbs wafting in her nostrils. It smelled lovely, she would've to drink one alongside Alastor.

But she held back on picking up another bag, knowing its sleeping effects. (Y/n) really didn't want to throw up while in her sleep, and potentially on Alastor, who would be as knocked out as her.

Sighing, she finished preparing the tea, pouring it in Alastor's favorite teacups, the one (Y/n) gifted him on their second anniversary many years ago.

She walked back over to him, placing the teacup on his saucer, putting the sugar cube in as well.

"Thank you dearest" Alastor said, his eyes skimming over the newspaper,"I shall be in our room in a moment, why don't you go ahead and get in your nightwear?"

"Alrighty" (Y/n) replied, patting the back of Alastor's chair. That was something the two of them did, (Y/n) knew when to touch Alastor and when to not. Still wanting to show him affection, she'll pat an object close to him.

Alastor gave her a soft smile before returning his focus to the newspaper.

The doe walked up the stairs in the hotel to their shared room. She got in her fluffy pajamas, completed each and every step to her skincare routine, and crawled into bed with a book.

The silence was only broken by the occasional turn of a page, this was (Y/n)‘s daily quiet time, as Alastor liked to read the paper before turning in for the night.

This normally is for about an hour, but tonight it was a mere 30 minutes as the door busted open.

The doe yelped, her skittish nature causing her to flinch at the sudden jolt of noise. Her partner flittered into the room before crawling on top of her, his eyes droopy from the affect.

“Hi sugar” He said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His ears were pressed against his head as he affectionately nuzzled (Y/n). Alastor grabbed her waist and flipped her on top of him, allowing him to bring her closer to his body, her chest atop of his.

“Al-Alastor?!” (Y/n) exclaimed, tensing up. What has gotten into him!? He’s not one to ever make such…bold advances.

“Oh my love” He said, a dreamy lilt in his voice,”you’re just perfection incarnate. Such a lovely little fawn you are.”

Blushing heavily, she let him rest himself on her, snuggling contently. It was rather peaceful, she did not know where this sudden chance of behavior came from, but it certainly wasn’t the worst by far.

(Y/n)’s ears perked up hearing a notification sound ding from her phone. She slowly grabbed it to check what it was.

Alastor was not very keen on allowing this sort of technology in the house, especially knowing Vox is over all of it. So they made a compromise, he’d take out the camera and microphone and she could have the phone.

Seeing it was a message from Vox, she opened it.

Vox: “Hey sweetheart, I pulled a few strings and got a shipment of some new tea of (your favorite flavor) that was being tested. How did you like it baby?”

(Y/n): Oh, it was good, thanks!

Vox: Just good? You sure sweet stuff? Wasn’t it so good you could just kiss the lips off of the person who got it for you?

(Y/n) sighed, shutting her phone off and curling up with her lover.

“I think that’s a yes!” Vox said, throwing his hands in the air ceremoniously. He quickly put on his best bow tie, in hopes it would get taken off by fingers other than his, and made his way towards the Hazbin Hotel.

————

Vox searched through each room until he found the one you and Alastor shared.

He scowled at the door, seeing a heart with the initials scribed on it “(Y/i) + A”

Pathetic. He could give you so much more than that. He could give you the most advanced technological sign known to mankind just for some silly initials, not some shitty hard with nearly illegible handwriting.

He opened the door, his signature smirk dropping as he saw Alastor, his arch nemesis (in Vox’s eyes) peppering small little kisses all over (Y/n)‘s face, making her giggle.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vox yelled, his face was blue-screening.

Alastor took one look at the fellow Overlord and let out a long string of laughter, sitting up as he pulled (Y/n) into his lap.

“Vox?! What are you doing here?!”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO DRINK THE TEA!! AND THEN YOU’D BE MINE!!”

Alastor hooked a arm around (Y/n)‘s waist, looking at his opponent across the room.

“This is my doe, my love, and we all know if she would’ve drank the tea, she would’ve always chosen me.”

Lets just say, the power around the Pride Ring went out after that comment.

————

Word Count 1,524

[evilminji]

You know what? I just had A Thought(tm)~☆

Danny. Our bby boy. MINDING HIS BUSINESS. Maybe visiting one of his buddies in the Realms after he graduates. When he just?? Get full on tackled from the sky.

And like?

Huh.

THIS hasn't happened in a bit. Not since he's become king. Legit, no one dares. He's honestly kinda missed it. Alright, square up... Mr. Uuuuuh.... Who are you?

And it's this barely formed New Ghost. Still in that glitch-y goopy blob phase and everything. Is Baby. Why... why does this infant Want To Fight God? I mean. He Respects It(tm), no lie, but? Not exactly usual for him?

And it turns out? This dude is some rando hero. He basicly JUST died. By all rights SHOULD be resting and gathering his strength to Form Right. But he's so worried for his team mates and everyone else he CAN'T. Recognized a fellow Hero's Costume even at a distance.

Please. PLEASE! You have to help him! We have to WARN everybody!

And Danny is just? Oh no. This Actual Infant Baby is gonna Anxiety himself to Actual Second Death at this rate. Yes! Sure! Just CALM DOWN! Anything you need buddy! BREATHE.

And this dude? Who died? Is legit a minor player who got WAY too deep but refused to abandoned People In Need(tm). It happens. It HURTS. But he saved a LOT of lives before he went down. Him and his team were just some Minor Heros from Belarus. How they ended up in deep space? Even THEY couldn't tell you.

They couldn't even bring him home.

He forgives them.

He could NEVER blame his friends. Not for this. The planet is in danger. Some... some THING. An invasion. The League has to be made aware. He DIED helping a planet try to evacuate all that they could. He... at least he...

He can't remember if the Eggs got out. They... they're like babies. A whole room full of toddlers who couldn't run. They had to de-connect from the main building to lift it out. He can't... can't...

He saved them... right? Held on.. long enough? Why can't he.. he...

Danny has to make him focus be for the kid spirals. Don't think of your last moments. Purpose. You NEED to do something right now, right?

Right! The League! We gotta warn them! And... okay. Danny can totally do that. (What LEAGUE??!) He DEFINITELY knows who you are talking about and will tell them Right Away. YOU however are gonna rest up.

So he leaves the kiddo with Lunch Lady. Mother and Frightening Matriarch Extraordinaire. Lunch Box promises to SIT on him if he tries to sneak off. Good kid. Now eat your soup before you BECOME soup.

Time to bully the eyeballs. Whoms't the F*ck is this "league"? And where does he find it? Talk. He has sand and he's not afraid to use it. Don't MAKE him get out the pepper grinder! Yeah. That's what he THOUGHT.

After much, prolonged and unnecessary, whining and dramatic threatening... he gets a printed out map. Cheapskates even used flimsy paper. He gets there. Jaunt is even kinda nice. He says hi to a few folks he hasn't seen in a while.

Opens a portal.

Steps out.

Gets punched in the face. RUDE! He punches the flying blue man back. Dents their wall. Not even a LITTLE sorry about that now! See if HE does you a favor aga-... is that his Ex? John?

John! Constantine you B@STARD. YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. *Ten different hands slap a twenty on the table at his feet, including Constantine. Who is refusing to look at anybody.* Well, okay then. Debt payed. Gonna buy himself a shake or something, after this.

ANYWAY~ Good News Or Bad News?

He is met with silence. It's like they've never seen an ethereal, giant, glowing man with a suit that looks like a cut out of the night sky, step out of an eye searing rip in reality before. Man they're lives must be boring. But frankly? Danny can wait. It's not HIS reality that's gonna get messed up. He can take care of it if the wanna be Wah Babies. Good News or Bad News??? Pick one.

He sits back in the air and waits.

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ³ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.3k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho (you’re here) | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, some joel references, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’, ellie has a panic attack, shambler appearance (ew), and for the fun part… SMUT, switch!reader, oral sex, fingering ( :P ), barely any dirty talk because this is a loving experience y’all (and i don’t really know how to write that lmao), ellie might be a little ooc but i just perceive her to be this way idk.

note: to start… if anyone needs anyone to talk to after hearing the results of the election, please don’t be afraid to direct message me. especially my fellow american queer/trans friends. we are truly in some tough times right now. i hope this chapter can serve as some sort of distraction for what’s going on. as always, enjoyy!

Idaho

Welcome to the Gem State, the sign read when you passed the state line into Idaho a few days ago. The place you’ve been dreaming of was getting closer and closer—that feeling of relief was near! You could feel it bubbling in your stomach, enriching the nerves that ran under your sore muscles.

Since Oregon, you and Ellie had barely shared a full conversation. It’s only been small directions, or helpful interjections with infected, or even, guidance in getting around potentially dangerous people.

This time around, you harbored most of the frustration and anger. Wrath wrapped itself around you once more, forbidding you from wondering what her inquiries meant—what bringing up Honey meant. Ellie tried to service you the best she could, trying to make up physically for what she couldn’t vocally. Resuming her position as your caretaker, but that only made things worse.

The wounds and weaknesses of Santa Barbara were healing but were being replaced by new ones. Surface cuts, sprained ankles, and scorned hearts. Ellie could ask you nothing without the pitch of your voice raising an octave. It wasn’t anything like the character she knew you to be.

Or the months you spent together thus far meant nothing—she never actually knew anything about you.

The annotated map relied in your hands as you approached an administrative building. You had spent the previous night planning the route, instead of engaging in small talk with your partner. You were, somehow, still trying to prove to Ellie that you didn’t need her. Indulging in an individual competition of: who does it better? It was a drastic understatement to call you a competitive person. And her incessant need to make up for the misfortune of her curiosity wasn’t helping.

“Here’s the firm…” You mutter, immediately trotting to the front doors. American Falls Firm. Pulling at the handle, you realized it was locked and barricaded from the inside. Huffing, you folded up the map, sliding it into your backpack. “Looks like we gotta find another way in.” Dusting your hands, you began to survey different sides of the building. She followed behind you, keeping an eye out for lingering infected and any other inhibitors.

Humming to yourself, you squinted at the broken window above you. Turning your head, you peered at the auburn-haired woman who’s back faced you. Your Beretta resided in her hands as she kept a keen eye on the surroundings. Ellie didn’t mind doing that job because it kept her mind from wanting appeal to you. It kept her from wanting to beg for your forgiveness. After all, this was just her doing you a debtless favor. She shouldn’t have been so attached to you anyway.

“Hey,” You waved her over. “I need a boost.”

She met your eyes, nodding with firm lips. “Sure,” Slinging the shotgun around her body, she bent at the knee and cupped her hands low. Placing your hands on her shoulders, your irises danced over her features, briefly. Dirt attempted to blend in with the freckles over her nose, but they didn’t stand a chance—you knew the difference. Her olive eyes did well to avoid yours, feigning a look of impatience. “Up you go.”

Ellie boosted you up toward the window with all the strength she could muster. Fingers catching onto the edge of where the floor and window meant. Using your own strength, you pulled yourself into a room illuminated by daylight. Groaning under your breath from the stretch of your muscles. Crouching, you leaned back down to pull Ellie up.

Her hand attached to your forearm, crawling up the stone wall and into the room. Ellie hissed as she crawled inside, holding her wrapped ankle to alleviate some of the pain. Standing to your feet, you looked down at her with flickers of concern in your eyes.

The other day, she tripped over a thick fallen tree branch from the morning dew—spraining or straining her ankle, you couldn’t remember the difference. All you knew was that she hurt her ankle badly, but it wasn’t broken. Ellie wrapped it herself with athletic tape from your bag; with her back facing you in embarrassment.

“Can we keep going, or do you need a second?” You inquire, avoiding your eyes, dismissively. Like you didn’t care what her response was, even though you did.

“I’m fine…” She stood to her feet, wringing out her foot.

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine…” Ellie grumbled, walking off to another side of the room.

It was a barren office that the both of you meandered through. Picking at the miscellaneous items that could serve you in any way. There were two desks that occupied the office; decorated with familial picture frames and old-world gadgets that made no sense to either of you.

Slowly, pushing open the door, the entire building appeared silent. Light peaking through broken and foggy windows, greenery growing inside and through the deteriorating structure. You found it rather beautiful that the earth was taking back what was hers—negating the infected, of course. Your fingers traced the vines that grew through the cement. Those plants were living despite opposition; everyone could learn something from that.

Breaking through barriers and walls, despite their resilience.

You glanced at the auburn-haired woman, keeping a safe distance from you, scoping out the place. “What’s the route out of here?” She asks, dragging her sneakers against the cracked floors. There was a slight limp to her gait, but made sure to walk as normal as possible when your eyes were set on her.

Blowing air from your lips, you respond. “The ground floor. There should be a stairwell around here somewhere.”

Usually, lower floors of abandoned buildings worried you. Infected find themselves huddled in their own corrosion. In darker, moister, places they intensified. Some merging to the walls, other growing boils of acid.

When your eyes set on a metal door that led to the floor you needed to get to, your heart pumped blood into your veins. Pounding in your ears as an alarm. Through the window, white flurries fluttered by, confirming the one thing you were concerned about: over-developed infected.

“Mask up. Spores.” You swing your bag around to dig for your mask.

Ellie did the same, with slight hesitation. “Is the this only way through?”

You nodded, tightening the strap around your head. “Yeah, if we still wanna knock off some time.” Opening the door, you armed yourself with the pistol that sat snuggly in the waistband of your jeans. The walls were adorned in the crusty corrosion of the sick, bubbling in corners. You frowned under your mask, stepping slowly down the stairs. Ellie following behind you with the same caution, shotgun drawn.

Errk!

Both of you stopped moving in the stairwell at the sound of a clicker. You swear under your breath, glancing at your partner. “We’ve got company.” She muttered, nodding at you to go forward.

Moments like this was when you relied on her the most, but you’d never admit it. It was nice to not have to endure circumventing infected alone. Ellie was your backup, and you were hers. Even if you were still upset with her—underground that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive.

Navigating through the dark, with your lights flickered on, the both of you managed to stealthily kill the clickers wandering around. But when a pair of crusted hands leaped from the wall, pushing you onto the ground… Another beast was alerted.

With the sound of Ellie’s shotgun, a loud monstrous grumble rumbled from down the hall. You pushed the stalker to the side, scrambling to your feet. “Ellie, how many bullets do we have?” You asked her, adrenaline pumping through your body.

She checked the chamber, cursing. ��Fuck! Three rounds.”

Picking up the pistol from the ground, you checked the magazine. Only a few bullets. The shambler began to stomp, approaching the two of you, increasing into a run. “We gotta go!” You grab her hand, tugging her a tight hole in the wall; tall enough for you to slip through.

Running into the room, you realized there wasn’t an exit. There was only a door, but it led back out into the hallway. The quick call you made to evade the boiling beast, was a mistake. Before you could even regret the decision, the shambler bursted through the wall.

Without command, Ellie began firing the shotgun. First bullet. Second bullet. Third bullet—she was out. It roared, releasing puffs of acid. You both dodged by the skin of your teeth, running around the room like frightened mice. Now, it was your turn to unleash pointless blows to the creature. Emptying the rest of your magazine into the bulbous creature did nothing but anger it. Somehow, it found a way to creep up behind you and Ellie, taking her by the throat.

“Ellie!” You exclaimed, voice trembling in horror. Her hands scratched at its arms, pounding to be set free.

A pipe leaned out of a wall as an escape route, a message from God—fate, prying at you. Using the strength of a scared shitless person, you yanked the pipe free, falling back onto your butt. Quickly, you stood up and began hacking at the thing. Sounds of effort and defensive fear leaving your lips. Dropping Ellie onto the ground, he turned to you, roaring. However, your hacking at his body didn’t stop until he was on his knees. Gurgles left his corroded and bubbled mouth, but you used it as bait to make your final blow.

Heaving over its corpse, your back hunched, the pipe slipping from your sweaty grip. She coughed, reminding you of her presence, slumped against the wall. Her breath began to grow heavy, hand on her chest.

“Oh, my God— Ellie!” You crouched beside her, unsure where to place your shaking hands. She attempted to crack a smile, to pretend she was fine, but she wasn’t. The imperative organ in her chest beat faster than it should have, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t breathe—at least it felt like she couldn’t.

Ellie was panicking.

“Hey,” You tried, deepening your eyebrows, sliding your hands from her shoulders to her neck, to her trembling jaw. “Ellie,” Her hand shot up to grip your wrist with vigor, looking into your eyes, intensely. “Ellie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Your free hand pushed strangling hair from sticking to the plastic of her mask.

The grip on your wrist moved to the entrapment on her face. She began to claw at it, whining. “No…” You attempt to stop her fast, strong movements, but she shoved you away. “Ellie— no! What the fuck are you doing?!”

She peeled the mask off her face, taking the deepest breaths you’ve ever seen. Leaning back, your eyes watered, watching her gasp for toxic air. Ellie pushed the strands of her hair off her face, leaning her head against the cement of the wall. Her heart was settling, but then she looked to you. Olive eyes meeting your teary ones. “What the- what d-did you just do?” You stammered. “Ellie…”

You enunciated her name with such weariness that it made her feel guilty. Still, getting herself together from her panic attack, she felt the need to console you. But she didn’t have the energy.

Breathing heavily under your mask, you watch as nothing happened to her. She doesn’t convulse, choking on the toxic elements in the air. There was nothing different about her. Absolutely nothing.

“I can…” Ellie breathed. “I can explain later. Let’s just get outta here first, all right?”

Having no choice but to believe her, you stood to your feet. Reaching down for her hand. When you pulled her up, her ankle gave out on her. “Shit,” Ellie cursed, furrowing her eyebrows. “The harder they fall, huh?” She dryly chuckled.

You frowned, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

Unamused, you found a way out of the ground floor. Unmasking at the first sight of daylight. You didn’t have to travel far with Ellie’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. The only place that was able to receive your weak bodies was a little bookstore around the corner.

It was clustered inside. Book aisles placed close together, where only a single body could shimmy through. A pair of metal stairs spiraled up the back of the store, leading to another floor of books. Dropping all of your things, including Ellie’s arm, you stalked up those rusty steps with hot tears welling into your eyes.

Ellie leaned against a bookshelf, pressing her lips into a line. Watching every harsh step you took, ascending up the stairs. Her own eyes began to fill with tears, glancing down at her shaking hands. Before they could fall, she harshly wiped her face and decided to busy herself. It wasn’t a bad time to take inventory.

Upstairs, you found yourself huddled in a corner. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks, weeping as low as you could. The tears falling down your face was a release of fright. You realized something on that ground floor that you wish you hadn’t. That freckled stranger you had come upon, or who had come upon you, in Santa Barbara was becoming a meaningful person in your life. Unbeknownst to you! Ellie had snuck up on you like a rodent in disguise.

That distant figure that once hovered in dim lighting who you didn’t trust has become so much more. You trusted her with your fucking life. And it only took a few months on the road.

Having barely recovered from the threat of that shambler, she snatched her mask off like it was nothing. In those few second, your heart beat so loud it stalled time. You thought she was going to die right in front of you, willingly.

It took you back to a moment in your past—the death of your mother. Before you reached Catalina Island, your mother sacrificed herself to ensure that you made it there. She gave you her mask to take the spores head-on. Promising that she’d hold her breath; at fifteen, you were silly to believe her.

Just then, Ellie’s gasps proved your immediate worries and fears wrong. She wasn’t going to die in front of you like your mother did. The viral spores on that floor didn’t kill her. Making you wonder: who the fuck were you traveling with?

Wiping your face, messily, you wander back down the rusted steps of the bookstore. You spot her with both of your bags opened, going through the supplies you had. Counting under her breath. When her strained eyes caught yours, she ceased all movement.

“You know,” She began, looking at the hand that was missing her pinky and ring finger, massaging her palm. “I think, that was the most you’ve ever said my name.”

You frowned, walking through the aisles, cheeks stained with tears. “What the fuck was that back there?” The sound of your voice was weak and frail.

“A panic attack…”

“I’m talking about the mask, Ellie. You breathed spores…?”

She licked her lips, averting her olive eyes. “I’m immune…”

A beat passed between the two of you, roping around your still bodies.

Ellie watched how your lips quivered, like you wanted to cry. The redness in your eyes made her frown. “I just— in the moment… I couldn’t breathe. I needed to take it off—“

“How do you know?” You abruptly ask. “How do you know that you’re immune? What if it just… I don’t know… Takes longer to develop in your system?”

“y/n…” She remorsefully spoke. “I was bitten when I was fourteen.” Ellie rolls up the sleeve of her jacket, pushing her tattooed arm toward you.

Pressing your lips together, you walk forward, taking her arm in your hands. Her forearm was covered in evergreen ink. Taking your hand, she guided your fingers over the eruptions in her skin. Abrasions. Hidden beneath the adoration of the tattoo. You never noticed this before. “I had a lot of time to know if this was real…” Ellie muttered, peering at you. Insecurity leaking from her pores.

You met her eyes, opening and closing your lips, trying figure out the words you wanted to say. “Who are you?” You examined the features you’ve come to know. “And don’t walk away this time— you have no choice but to tell me.” A chortle falls from your lips, causing her stiffness in her shoulders to loosen.

And so, Ellie told you as much as she could. She told you about how she got bitten. She told you about Riley. She told you about Joel and Tommy—about the fireflies—and about Joel, again. She told you about Dina and Jesse. And then, she told you about Abby. The familiarity of her name caused you to perk up. You knew of her from the resort; it was her and a little boy. However, the version she told you about aligned nothing with the version that you knew of.

“I went to Santa Barbara because I wanted to put an end to my suffering and Tommy’s— I wanted to kill her.” Ellie confessed, leaning her head back against the books pushed into the shelves. The two of you sat opposite of each other in a book aisle, knees grazing every so often. “I thought that would fix everything… But, when I saw her on that pillar…” She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. “For a second, I wasn’t going to do it. She led me to that beach, holding that kid, and I was gonna leave.”

Ellie blinked, remembering that empty feeling she felt on that day. Guilt crawling through her for something that was never in her control. You watched her speak, intently, with deepened eyebrows. “Then, I remembered. I remembered what she did— what she took from me, and I couldn’t let her go. I threatened that little boy, and I made her fight me. She didn’t want to, but I made her.”

“Did you kill her…?” You asked, slowly.

She chortled, wiping her teary eyes. “No. She took my fucking fingers, and I let her go.” The laugh she released was dry, and without humor. “It was like… Everything that I’ve done, leading up to that day, was all for nothing. All the people that I hurt— that I killed just to get to her… It was all for nothing.” Her voice cracked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie couldn’t stop them this time.

You reached for her knee, caressing your thumb over the fabric of her jeans. She peered up at you, through her thick, wet eyelashes with a sort of surprise. Ellie didn’t think you’d stick around after hearing about her truth. You, a victim of the rattlers, empathizing with a murderer.

Before that, though, you were a firefly. You more than just a victim.

“How could I ever think of you as a bad person after what I’ve done?” She pressed her plump lips into a line, shaking her head. “That wasn’t what I meant at all… I was just trying to figure you out. I worded it all wrong— I’m sorry.” Ellie apologized with such frailty, you had no choice but to accept.

“Don’t be sorry, Ellie…”

“I’m beginning to realize I’m not really good with people.”

You squeeze her knee. “That’s not true. I think we get along great.” You shrug, attempting to lighten up the mood. Her lips curled at the corners, reaching for the hand on her knee, placing hers over yours. A silence bounced between you—eyes boring into each other’s, looking through each other. “I also think… You did what you thought was best…” You voiced, nodding affirmatively. “I probably would’ve, somehow, done worse.”

She scoffed, drawing circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly. “Worse? You couldn’t have done worse.”

“You’d be surprised.” You lifted your eyebrows. “Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but as a firefly… When you’re told to do something, you do it.” Shrugging, you remove your hand from hers, crossing your arms. “I’m not a saint, Ellie. I’ve done loads of shit that I’m not proud of.” You looked down at your knees, frowning. “If some girl killed someone I cared about right in front of me… It would have been the last thing she ever did. Shit, I’ve killed people for less.”

You paused, eyebrows twitching. The image of a guardian angel came into your mind—Honey. “It should’ve been me in that house… In Santa Barbara.” Squeezing your eyes shut, tears began to fall down your cheeks once more. Angry, mourning tears. “It’s like… The Lord gave me second chance to do better— or was it fate? I don’t fucking know…”

Ellie blinked, having a severe déjà vu moment. Somehow the words spoken in her past, have managed to resurface. If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again. Spoken by your pretty mouth, instead of someone else’s. “I’d probably be just like Honey if it weren’t for you— dead. And I still don’t know what makes me worth saving, but I’m grateful. I’m grateful for you.” You sniffed, lips quivering while looking at the auburn-haired woman.

She swallowed, moving from her spot across from you to sit beside you. If only she had the courage to say those words to Joel. If only her resentment didn’t run so deep—perhaps, her guilt for his death wouldn’t be so strong. “Everything about you is worth saving… You’re like a lucky charm.”

You leaned your head back against the books, looking at her. “A lucky charm, huh?”

“Hell yeah! I mean, you totally whooped that shambler’s ass. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hitting her arm, you giggle, keeping your eyes on the bookshelf in front of you. “Seriously, y/n…” Her humored tone faded as she trained her eyes on the side of your face, urging you to just look at her. To meet her eyes as passionately as she wanted to meet yours. It could’ve been the vulnerability that pulsed around the room, but she needed to see you. Her body ached for touch—perhaps, your touch. Ellie needed consolation for her confession.

Finally, your eyes drift toward hers. Not realizing how close her body was to yours. Shoulders, arms, hips, knees touching as if you were conjoined by the hip. Her eyes were prettier close up. They were greener than the evergreen that grew up desolate buildings. The freckles on her damaged skin could be connected like constellations—how come you never noticed this before? You wanted to trace the scar over her top lip and the one in her eyebrow with your finger, not just with your eyes.

The only thing that could be heard was your uneven, nervous breaths. Ellie moved her face closer to yours, just enough to tease, to ask for your permission without using her words. Her olive eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. Weakly, you nodded, chewing on the corner of your bottom lip.

Her hands settled on your face, pulling you to hers. Meeting her lips with your lips, softly and patiently. Placing your hands on her wrists, you pull away, analyzing her features. Full lips were parted, wantonly. Pushing forward, you resumed the kiss with more intensity.

Whining against her lips, you got onto your knees, kicking your leg over her legs. Settling on her lap, her hands moved to your hips, kneading them. Her lips beginning to trail down your jaw; they were wet and hot kisses, causing your hips to roll on their own. Pleasured sighs fled from your swollen parted lips, holding onto her shoulders. “Ellie— Ellie, are you sure about this?” You question, with your eyes fluttered shut.

Against the sensitive skin of your neck, she spoke. “Beyond sure…” She muttered, littering your neck with love bites. Then, she pauses, pulling back to look up at you. Her hands still on your hips, pulling them to a stop to get your attention. “Are you sure about this?” Her pupils were blown out, adoringly.

You massaged her tense shoulders, licking your lips. The sight of her made your skin warm and tingly. “I’m fucking sure.” You smiled, playing with ends of her auburn strands. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against hers again, with fervor.

The both of you needed this—human connection. Even if it was short-lived, or temporary.

Ellie pushed at the flannel over your arms, tossing it to the side. Then, it was your knit shirt. She rolled it up from your abdomen, you lift your arms so she could remove it. Lastly, was your sports bra. She pulled it over your head, eyes marveling at the sight before her. Her calloused hands ran down the bare sides of your back, lips trailing down your sternum.

Running your hands over her hair, she latched her lips around one of your nipples. Sucking and nibbling at the sensitive nerves. A moan escapes your throat, arching your back into her. Your hips buck on top of her lap, begging for her touch elsewhere. “My lucky charm…” She mutters against your skin, kneading your other breast.

You end up with your back on the hard floor of the bookstore. Your hands pulling off her clothes like your life depended on it. She pulled your pants off, leaving you both only in your underwear.

Ellie kissed you, again, pressing her chest against yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, pushing her thigh against your clothed core. You could feel her grinding against your propped up leg, moaning into your mouth. Calloused hand gripping the back of your thigh. Sloppily, your lips trail to the side of her face, airy moans releasing beside her ear. “Ellie, please, touch me…” Wantonly, you pleaded, clenching the roots of her hair.

With her hot lips against your jaw, nibbling at your ear, she obliged. Drifting her hand down the center of your bodies, rubbing you over your underwear. Propping herself up on her other arm, she peered down at you. A pout resting on your wet lips, narrowing your eyes at her. One-handed, she slides your underwear to the side, running her middle finger up your center. Spreading your slick over that sensitive bud awaiting her focus. Ellie chews on her bottom lip, watching you shudder under her touch. “Right there?”

You respond with the tremble of your thighs and the heaving of your chest. She cracked a charming smile, eyes hazing at the sight of you.

Slipping two fingers into your cunt, she moans with you, curling her fingers slowly. Your hands roam her toned stomach, squeezing at her breasts, but you were losing focus. “S— So fucking good— ah!” Pulling her fingers out of you, she lowered herself. Kissing the scars and bruises that littered your abdomen. Her movements briefly confused you, until you felt her mouth on the inner parts of your thighs.

She pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. Then, she was on you, mouth hot over your cunt. Suckling on your clit, thrusting her tongue into you—eating you like she was starving. Your mouth fell ajar, grasping at her hair for something to hold onto. “Fuck, Ellie!” You whine, bucking your hips toward her face.

Her olive irises looked up at you between your legs, glimmering with lust. Arching your back, feeling that tightness coiling under your muscles, a lewd sound comes from your throat. Something between a moan and a yelp.

Sooner than later, your release comes crashing over you. Like a breath of fresh air. Legs clamping around her head, pushing her closer to your heat. Her lips making out with your pussy, bringing you down from your high. “Oh, my God…” You mutter, massaging her scalp with your fingers.

She crawls up your body like a lustrous lioness, letting your taste yourself on her lips. Your hands gripped at the fat of her ass, biting her bottom lip with your teeth. Ellie gasped, angling your face with her hand, groaning against your lips.

Sliding your index finger under the hem of her boxer-short underwear, you yank them down. “Damn…” Ellie mutters, kicking off her underwear the rest of the way. “You’re quick.” She chuckles, as you flip her onto her back. Running your lips down her neck, biting her skin.

“I want you… Can you blame me?”

You gripped at her hips, but when she winced you stopped. Peering down at her hip bone, a stitching remained there. Red and a little irritated. “It’s fine. Keep goin’, please.” Ellie tried, reaching for your hand.

Lowering your body, you kissed around the irritated wound, gently. Ellie watched you, chewing on her lip. Holding onto her hand, you kissed lower and lower. Through the hairs over her mound, the inner parts of her thigh—lightly over her cunt. She twitched, bashfully trying to shut her legs. But your hands braced her thighs.

Breathing her in, you licked a line up her center, making eye contact with her. An airy sound left her parted lips, free hand tweaking her nipples. “Yeah… Yeah…” She chanted, rocking herself against your face. You lick at her clit before sucking it into your mouth, her hips jolting at the feeling. Fluttering your eyes shut, you spend time on her sensitive bud, messily. Your non-dominant hand still holding onto Ellie’s, her grip tightening every second.

Taking your other hand, you insert your middle and ring finger into her core. Looking up at her reaction, while you made love to her clit. “Fuck, yes!” She enunciated her words lustily, drawing them out. Popping her bud from your lips, you begin to curl your fingers. Her wanton moans bouncing off the bookshelves around you.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You whisper, mainly to yourself, as you gaze at her in awe. Ellie was always so rough around the edges, but under you she was different. Her scarred body shook under you, in pleasure. She was in her element.

She moaned your name, riding your fingers. The muscles in her abdomen clenching, the grip on your hand getting harder. Taking that as your cue, you began to make out with her pussy. Only bringing her closer and closer to that breaking coil.

When the sparks in her stomach bursted into flames, a string of curse words fell from her lips. Her back arching off the hardwood floor, fingers pinching her tits. Her slick was all over your mouth, as you crawled back up her body.

Hungrily, she found your lips. Pushing your bare bodies together, you lazily made out—winding yourselves down.

Orange hues of the sun setting peaked through the windows, and the empty parts of the shelves. A burnt orange cast, glazing over your bodies like a blanket. Your legs intertwined, arms draped over shoulders, wrapped around waists; you were comfortable like this. Ellie was comfortable like this.

Parting your lips, she peppered small kisses along your jaw, before laying her head on your chest. “There’s a couch upstairs…” You breathe, playing in her hair.

“You say this now…?” She looked up at you, fingers rubbing circles on your bare hips.

A chuckle fell from your lips, your thumb caressing her flushed cheeks. “Heat of the moment!”

She sucked her teeth, nuzzling her head into your neck. “Whatever, you filthy woman.”

“Hey! You’re the one who took my clothes off.”

“You let me take your clothes off.” She nibbled at the skin of your throat, squeezing the fat of your hip.

You pressed your lips together, amused, running your fingers down her freckled back. “We could go up to the couch now.” You offered.

Ellie shook her head, hooking her leg around yours to pull herself closer to you. “No, just wanna lay here for a while…”

And you did just that. Laid with each other until your backs ached enough to move to the couch upstairs. Only to resume the position on the itchy cushions until the sun came back around to drag you both back onto the road.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Over For Dinner

Art The Clown x Reader

AN: I got SO MUCH love for my Your Own Happy Ending so here we are with more horror x reader content!

Sum: Halloween had passed and Christmas was just around the corner. You were just doing some domestic things when you couldn’t help but notice a window was open. One you had locked

Warnings: 18+, Violence, gore, home intruder, Art being Art, MUTE Art (gotta take the disability rep when we can) gun violence, implied cannibalism, attempted sexual assault, (but we all know revenge is on its way. Shout out to my fellow victims that need their comfort killer to kill their abusers) it’s gonna get messy, very horror aesthetic story line, just. Art being art. (Needs another warning 😭) and of course domestic fluff as icing on this murder cake

“Honey! Where did you put the Christmas lights?!” You shouted to your boyfriend, only to stumble upon them in the kitchen. Just where he had left them for you.

“NEVER MIND-!”

You would grab the box, and started to hang the slightest all through out the interior of the home. Oh the joys of LED lights. Saves you money while still enjoying the festive spirit.

It wasn’t Halloween, sure, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be fun. To enjoy the lights, music, sounds, and pleasures. Each holiday had its own little flavor. Some might not enjoy certain flavors, others may have a favorite. Doesn’t hurt to dabble in multiple.

You were humming away at some Christmas tune, while wrapping the lights or hanging them, when you stumbled upon an open window. You would poke your head out, and looked around. Was wondering where that draft came from.

You pulled your head back in, and then closed it shut. That’s when you noticed something was off with the lock. It was locked in place, yet the window had been open. You gave the window another look over and found that the wood work looked strange. Like someone shoved a crowbar between it and forced it open. The small splintering a reaction from it.

“Honey?” You called out, trying to reason that maybe it was his doing. Some kind of prank of sorts. Yeah. Your boyfriend was quite the card after all. Would make sense that he would do something wild. Always liked to keep you on your toes.

Still…..This wasn’t his style. Not his style at all. Was way too subtle. He’s NOT the subtle type.

You hurried back into the kitchen, and pulled out one of the knives from your block. Someone was inside the house. Someone who shouldn’t be.

“Hey honey?! You still in the attic?!” You called out, as you slowly walked the hallways. Maybe if you kept making it clear you weren’t the only one in the house that the intruder would get scared and run off. Right?

That’s what you hope anyway. You had a theory that this person assumed you lived alone. Your boyfriend always made sure to leave the house at night, and it was normally very late at night no less. People wouldn’t assume you had someone live with you.

“Honey?!” You called again, wondering why he wasn’t responding. Yeah he can’t respond, but he had ways to indicate he heard you. You made the effort to learn sign language for him, and he made the effort to find alternatives to share his voice with you.

Just where was it right now?

Slowly through the hallways you went. Each step as calculated as it could be. Every creak of a floorboard was memorized by all your little hide and seek games with your partner. All the corners treated with care. Any sound you heard was listened as hard as ears could muster.

Nothing but wind, cars driving by, and your own breathing.

Like a crack of lighting the back of your head was grabbed, and your face was slammed into the wall. Such pain made your body instinctively let go of your blade, and reach for where you hurt. Curse your human reaction. Hardly so much as touched your face when you were yanked away from the bloody wallpaper.

A arm was around your throat, and another around your waist. Your fingers tried to tear at the arm on your neck, but the invader was wearing thick clothing. No way for you to get any kind of hit. All you could do was fight to breathe.

“I know you are home all alone. That Honey bullshit isn’t fooling me. Now just play nice and you won’t get hurt more than needed. Got it?” The man would speak into your ear, as you felt cold metal being pressed against your temple.

Guess you gotta play nice.

“The hell do you want, huh?” You snapped. Suppose when your lover is a few lions short of a full circus you don’t get scared of dangerous situations as easy as you should. If this was between you and your boyfriend it would simply be foreplay.

“Well for starters money. You got yourself a pretty fancy house here. Not enough for security cameras, but it’s clear you got enough. I also want to have some fun with you. No point wasting a warm body.” He chuckled at you, as he would rub the gun across your body. Made you want to gag. Or was that just the borderline suffocation?

“Fuck off. For your information I do have a boyfriend. My boyfriend is an insane bastard no less. He’s going to turn you into mush for what you are doing to me. He’s around here somewhere. Must be behind the house helping decorate. You are dead meat when he comes in here!” You threatened, just to get the barrel of the gun pointed back at your temple.

“Oh will you fucking shut up? You got no boyfriend. I’ve been watching this house for ages. Never seen him once. It’s always just been you. I sure as hell never heard him either-!” That’s when you had to cut in. “He’s mute you shit head. Of course you wouldn’t hear him-!” That just made him laugh.

“You are really sticking to that whole boyfriend thing, huh? Well if it’s true then that means you know how to please a man. Don’t you?” That made you shiver in disgust, as he gave another tight hug around your waist. Just finding any excuse to touch you.

That’s when there was the sound of the back door opening.

“Who the fuck is that?” He would grit between his teeth, as you grinned.

“My boyfriend. Duh.”

That didn’t please him one bit. The attacker was soon trying to drag you somewhere else in the house. To try and maybe buy some time to think of how to handle two people against one. You sure made sure he struggled though. Kicking your legs, and trying to make a noise. The cold metal to your temple made it clear you couldn’t speak or it’s game over. So all you can do is legs.

He was making an attempt for the stairs, to try and make distance away from the back door, but that just gave you the perfect kicking items. You nailed each photo frame you could with your feet. Sent them crashing down, and glass breaking. Was very loud against the quiet house. Not to mention since it’s on the stairs they would go toppling down.

That noise alerted your boyfriend in an instant, and now he was at the bottom of the stairs.

He looked like such a normal guy. Snow was still fresh on his black boots and pants. A cozy white sweater and gloves. A nice finish was a black beanie. Looked like your typical string bean. The only thing that seemed off at all was his very defined nose. If not that, just another guy off the street.

“Watch it! I’m the one with the gun here! Don’t try anything or the bitch gets it!” The man would yell at your boyfriend, as said boyfriend held his hands up. Acting as if he was a scared man.

“We are going to do things my way. That means no funny business, got it?!” You couldn’t stop your snort, despite the dire situation. Had him look down at you, and press the gun harder into your temple.

“The hell is so fu-!”

Bang.

The intruder wasn’t the only one with a gun.

He was just to damn fast for the attacker to comprehend. One second he had a gun at your head, the next he was tumbling down the stairs. Screaming in pain, as he had been shot right into his hand.

“I warned ya! But no~! Someone wanted to be all big and tough huh?” You mocked, as you would come down the stairs. Stepped right over him, and gave your knight in shining armor a kiss of gratitude. Arms wrapped around his neck, and his own around your waist.

“Eh. Guess we should be good hosts and have him over for dinner. I know you love fresh meat.” You giggled, as your attacker was in pain and confusion. Didn’t have time to ask what you meant, before he was tossed over the shoulder of the man who shot him. Gun playfully spinning in his hand, as you focused on cleaning up the mess.

You would hum away, as you would hang up the photos that weren’t broken, meanwhile the intruder was screaming for help. Begging for god to save him.

There was no god here.

You would take the gun off the stairs, and bring it to a trunk that was stuffed full of weapons. Many your boyfriends, but most from all the other people who tried to fuck with the clown.

You locked it up, and came to the kitchen. Going to get some bleach from under the sink.

“Aw dammit. We ran out of bleach. Art, sweetie, do we have any in the pantry?” You looked over so casually, while the man was strapped down on the marble counter top. Currently having himself become a dissected mess. Organs currently being pulled out and separated.

Art would give you a nod, before getting back to work. That work being pull the man’s heart out, and offering it to you. Had you all giggly, as you kissed his bloody cheek.

“Aren’t you sweet. I’ll clean up the stairs while you finish with dinner. Guess we don’t have to worry about a Christmas ham this year. Thanks so much for coming over! Saved us alot of stress.” You would wave at the man, as he would soon just lay there. Eyes glossy from death pulling him to wherever his soul may lay.

“My hero.” You laughed, as you kissed his cheek again. Was happily returned, before you two nuzzled your noses together. As if simply newly weds.

What a way to start the holidays.

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x succubus!reader. you're dragged along by a friend to verosika mayday's anti-blitzø party and find yourself drawn to a certain imp as the night progresses. after blitzø's heart to heart with the hostess, he's left stewing in his own mind. when you approach him and offer to keep him company there on the balcony, he may just see you as a sorely needed reprieve from his traitorous thoughts.

anon request. 3.2k

featuring: hurt/comfort, smut, an emotionally wrought blitzø, some stolitz feels.

Hugging a plastic cup to your chest, you watch the party move around you with wide eyes. You weren’t at all surprised by the level of debauchery – hell, by Lust Ring standards this was actually pretty tame – but by the strange kind of… catharsis you were witnessing amongst some of the other guests. Sure, not all of it was exactly healthy – you were pretty sure playing pin-the-dagger-on-the-dickhead wasn’t therapist approved – but people seemed to be…

Well.

Maybe ‘moving on’ weren’t the right words for it.

But, hey, you weren’t here to judge. You’d been invited by a friend to a Verosika Mayday party, and even among fellow Succubi that was huge deal. So, that had been enough for you to put together a poor attempt at a Halloween costume and tag along for the night.

You hadn’t realized that the dress code had a different theme until you had opened your apartment door to see you friend wearing a shirt emblazoned with a crudely written “Fuck You Blitzo”. Now it was easy to tell the two groups apart by their wardrobes – those invited by Verosika herself, and their guests all dolled up in their Halloween best.

Still, decent booze, better music, and the intoxicating energy that always radiated off a group of Lust demons this large has your head spinning pleasantly, even if this isn’t exactly what you’d been expecting. You’d grilled your friend on how they’d scored themselves an invite, and honestly, it felt as though you only needed to be tangentially involved with this ‘Blitzø’ guy to score yourself an invite from Mayday.

You weren’t complaining. It beat sitting at home.

The hours pass in a blur of booze and bodies, and you’ve long since surrendered yourself to the fun. An incubus you’ve already forgotten the name of has you pressed against the wall, his tongue in your mouth and his hips flush against yours. You can feel him hard against you, the energy swirling through the party spurring you on. You hook one hand in his belt, the other slung over his shoulder, still holding your half-full cup. He doesn’t seem to be worried about wearing the contents, and his lips move to the side of your throat, his stubble teasing over your skin.

You hum happily at the sensation, rolling your hips into his. An incubus isn’t going to feed you those happy-vibes as much as a human soul could, but even without the power rush your own excitement is an addictive sensation. The incubus grazes his teeth over your collarbone and you gasp, eyes opening lazily.

You cast your gaze across the throng of dancing bodies and upward, following the line of the stairs to the balcony above. A figure wrapped in what looks like a stained tablecloth sits up there alone, feet dangling over the edge. You find yourself staring up at them for a long moment before you feel yourself pushing the other demon away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve gotta go,” you tell him, only semi-apologetic. “Sorry.”

He shrugs, taking it in stride the way only an incubus can, and you step past him to wander up the stairs. Coming to a stop beside the figure… an imp, you realize… you hesitate for a moment.

“Mind if I join you?”

You can barely make out the shrug of his shoulder and you take a seat beside him, swinging your legs out over the edge of the balcony. Discontent is just radiating off of him, and you bite your lip.

“Y’know… you might be the only person here who out even less thought into dressing for the theme than me,” you joke gently. You’re wearing a barely-there dress made of thick black threads woven together to emulate a spiderweb. It left the matching set of black lingerie clearly visible underneath, the hem ending a few inches above your thigh-high boots. “Are you supposed to be a… ghost or something?”

The imp doesn’t answer, and you bit your lip against the sheer awkwardness. You could just take him blowing you off in stride and leave, but there was something so… magnetic about the guy. You take a sip of your drink, holding out the cup in offer.

“You want some?”

There’s a pause, then he reaches out from under the tablecloth to take the cup, his claws brushing against your fingers as he does. He throws back the rest of it, sighing and letting the cup drop from his hand to the floor below, heedless of anyone it might hit. “…Thanks.”

“Sure,” you say, tucking hair behind your ear. “You, uh… don’t seem to be having fun. Did… you know this Blitzo guy?”

The imp is silent for a few moments, his voice barely audible. “He ruined my fucking life.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

The imp glances your way, stiffening for a second as he studies your face. “I don’t… did Blitz fuck you over, too?”

He has nice eyes.

You shake your head. “Got invited by a friend. And I don’t think they really knew the guy either. Hell, half the people here are like that from what I can tell. Honestly, this whole thing feels kinda… fucked up.”

The imp stares at you for a few more moments, and there’s something weighted about his gaze. You swallow, fingers tangling in the webbing covering your stomach. Then, he casts his eyes down over the crowd, and he tenses.

“What’s wrong?”

He seems to struggle to decide whether he wants to tell you. You follow his gaze and spot the Goetian Prince you’d heard sing earlier in the night, currently being spun around the dancefloor by an Incubus you’ve seen at parties in the past.

“Ah.” you say. “An ex?”

He nods, almost pitifully. Still, his fists clench against his thighs, an outward show of irritation. Possessiveness.

The two of you watch the couple laugh and dance for a while, and you fight the urge to reach a hand over to him as he growls quietly when the incubus kisses the prince’s neck.

Instead, you swallow, raising your voice over the crowd again. “Hey… did you drive?”

“What?”

“Did you drive tonight?”

He nods, eyes still glued to the Owl Prince.

“…D’you think you could give me a ride home?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The two of you ride in silence, all the way back into Hell and down into the Lust Ring; you only speak up long enough to give him directions to your apartment. His claws are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, hard enough that his knuckles are pale. His jaw clenches and unclenches, and after a while you reach out over the messy seat of his van to touch a calming hand to his knee.

The imp glances down at it, almost surprised, but his jaw stops tightening.

He comes to an abrupt stop outside your apartment building, mounting the curb and narrowly missing the bench bolted to the footpath. You unbuckle your seatbelt, the awkward feeling hanging between the two of you like so much smoke.

You should end it here, let him take himself home and drink away his troubles or smash shit or send his ex a barrage of texts over what he saw tonight. It’s not your business and you don’t owe the guy anything. So, why instead do you hear yourself say: “Hey, um… d’you want to come inside?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On any other day, Blitzø might have scoffed at the idea of a shy succubus, one that treads lightly around his feelings rather than just asking or seducing him into a rough fuck, but tonight he just follows you into your apartment quietly. He still wears the tablecloth like a security blanket, but you don’t comment on it.

Instead, he takes a seat on the couch as you pour the two of you a drink of Asmodean whiskey. It’s not as strong as Beelzejuice but it’s marketed as a nightcap, and it feels more suitable in this moment than a party drink. It burns his throat when he downs half of it, his fingers wrapped almost too tightly around the glass.

You try to make conversation, voice stilted and quiet, and he offers you brief responses that float away like debris in water. All he can see in his mind is Stolas’ happy, carefree smile as that incubus had held him in his fucking arms, and Blitzø just needed his brain to stop.

“You wanna fuck?”

You stop midsentence, caught off-guard.

“I…” you give a surprised, breathless laugh. “I’m… you want to…?”

“Fuck,” he nods decisively. He feels like he should be leaning into you, fixing you with bedroom-eyes or at the very least be speaking in a huskier tone but instead he just sits there, a matter-of-fact. “Now.”

You seem to consider him for a moment before you reach up, and he stiffens as you touch the edge of the tablecloth.

“Depends,” you say, pushing the cloth back away from his face. “Do I have to fuck a ghost?”

He chokes on a laugh despite himself before you lean down to kiss him. He meets your lips almost hesitantly, and it isn’t until later that he realizes that this is the first time he’s kissed someone other than Stolas in months. Your kiss is different, softer and more tentative… there’s no urgency behind it, none of the desperation that’s usually tied to a scheduled fuck. It leaves him cold for a moment, uncertain, but then you cup his cheek gently and slide your tongue into his mouth and he feels warmth bloom in his gut.

He kisses you back, claws curling in the threads barely covering your thigh as the tablecloth falls off him completely. The feel of it sliding over his back makes him shiver, and he wraps his other hand around the back of your neck, tugging you closer and deepening the embrace.

You taste of the sweet nectar of Beelzejuice and something tart like cherries, and he groans, low and reedy into your mouth. The sound thrills you, sends a shudder through the very middle of you, and you scratch your nails over the base of one of his horns.

Blitzø almost purrs at the sensation. “Fuck…”

He inhales sharply as you trail your hand down from his face and over his chest and further… you urge his jacket down off his arms and he shrugs it off, taking your face in his hands. His teeth catch your lip and he tastes the metallic hint of blood, his cock stirring as you whimper needily in response. His eyes roll back behind the lids as you finally palm his cock, squeezing the bulge in his pants as you break apart to catch your breath, forehead bumping against his.

He barely gives you a chance to steady yourself before he’s pulling you in again, because as long as he’s feeling this, feeling you, those whispers in his brain can’t be heard. You’re a balm against the poison of his mind, and Blitzø finds himself torn between the idea of laying you out and pounding your ass into the mattress or splitting you open over his lap.

Blitzø grabs at you, clutching at your hips, your breasts. “Fuckin’ piece of—”

You giggle as his claws tangle in your dress, pulling away to tug it off over your head. Tossing it aside, your breath catches as the imp buries his face against your chest, licking and nipping at the swell of your breasts. He sucks at a nipple through the cup of your bra, and you dust kisses over his horns and his forehead as his fangs graze the hardened point through the silk. He reaches up to tug the cup down, his claws drawing lines against the soft swell of your breast, dark red against the cotton candy color of your skin. He seems to admire the marks for a moment before he brings his mouth to your breast again, curling his forked tongue around your nipple and sucking hard.

The way you arch against him is the closest Blitzø will ever understand as poetry, and he decides right there he needs more of it, pulling you into his lap. You straddle his thighs obediently, grinding yourself once, hard over his crotch. He snarls at the feeling of it, wrapping your hair around his hand and dragging you back down into another kiss, his other claws clutching at a handful of your ass.

The imp’s touch is hot and rough and amazing, so good you’re almost surprised you’re not sucking up a supernova worth of soul energy from the demon. He encourages you to ride his lap with a tight grip on your thigh and your ass, his tongue sliding almost languidly into your mouth.

You unbuckle his belt with practiced ease, lowering his zipper and wrapping your fingers around his erection. The imp groans into your mouth, bucking into the warmth of your hand. You squeeze the base of him with every downstroke of his cock, bending down further to dust kisses over his cheek and the side of his throat. Your teeth graze his collarbone and he curses, claws flexing so hard on your ass that you feel them prick your skin.

“Fuck me…” he groans, and you kiss him again, bracing an arm against the back of the couch beside his horns.

“That’s the idea,” you say breathily and he swats your ass with the spade of his tail. He begins to roll his eyes at the joke but the gesture melts away as you take hold of his wrist and lead his hand between your legs. The imp takes the hint immediately, and you moan quietly as he tugs your underwear aside and slides his fingers against your clit.

“Oh, shit…” you murmur, riding his hand slowly. The imp presses kisses to your chest, reaching behind you unclip your bra. You shrug it off, letting out a drawn-out, broken moan as he guides his cock into you. “Fuck…”

“Fuckin’ Christ…” he agrees, head falling back against the couch. Bracing both hands against the couch on either side of him you corkscrew your hips slowly over his until he bottoms out inside you. He surprises you by leaning up to kiss you again, and you let that linger as you begin to move against him.

You ride the imp’s lap slowly, reveling in the way every inch feels inside you. He thrusts up into you every time you lower yourself again, claws claiming your thighs, just above the top of your boots.

He watches you with wide eyes, his gaze dropping down over your near-naked body before always returning to your face. You shudder with the way he feels filling, stretching your cunt, pushing your hair out of your face so you can press a kiss between his horns.

The way he’s watching you is more intoxicating than anything else you’ve sampled tonight, and when slips a hand between your legs to play with your clit you keen, head falling back.

Blitzø stares at the column of your neck as you tighten around him, your cum dripping down over the base of his cock. He feels your tail wrap around his calf, feels your cunt squeeze around him, and he closes his eyes tight.

The flash of feather and glowing red in his memory makes his brow crease, and he runs his hand over your waist, your thigh, reminding himself of the soft, smooth expanse of your skin. He thrusts up harder into you, retaking your hips to encourage you into a more brutal pace.

You let out an ‘uh’ every time he hits that spot inside you, and he’s cursing and groaning and you palm your breast and squeeze. There’s a furrow between his brows and you can tell he’s trying to hold out, to make this last. His hands are so tight on your hips you’re sure that you’ll bruise, but you don’t care, circling your clit with hurried fingers as you bounce on his dick.

“Yes…” you moan, sparks igniting up along your spine as he angles his hips just right. “Oh, fuck, yes, Blitz!”

“Kiss me,” the imp says just as your second orgasm crests. “Please… fuck. Kiss me.”

You take his face in your hands and bring his lips back to yours and he moans into your mouth as he cums inside you, hands gripping roughly at your shoulders. You keep kissing him until you feel him relax, breaking away to dust soft, slow kisses to his cheek and between his eyes. His hips bump up into yours a few more times as he finally comes down, his chest heaving.

He freezes as you bump your forehead against his and pulls back to meet your eye. “You… how the fuck did you know I’m…”

You raise an eyebrow, the beginnings of an amused smirk playing on your lips. “Your ex is the Goetian Prince and they were kinda burning you in effigy at that party… I took a gamble.”

Blitzø chuckles, the sound half torn between amusement and self-deprecation. “Fuck…”

“Well, hey,” you shrug. “Maybe I’ll have earned an invite of my own to next year’s big Halloween bash.”

He groans, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m kidding!” you laugh, taking hold of his wrists and dragging his hands away from his face. “I’m only kidding, I swear!”

He raises an eyebrow at you disbelievingly, and you smile softly, reassuringly.

“Seriously, Blitz. I mean, I don’t really know you, besides the whole…” you gesture down to where you’re still straddling his lap. Your thighs ache slightly with him still inside you. “… y’know… but I didn’t bring you home with me thinking I was going to ‘fix the asshole of honour’.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope.” you shake your head at his skepticism. “I learned a long time ago that no one expects monogamy from a succubus. And I’m fine with that. I do better without the strings attached. But,” you continue, grinding your hips slowly over his once and making the over-sensitized imp groan in the back of his throat. “I also know you looked like you could use a break from the self-hate for a little while.”

His gaze drops, and you skim a finger down his cheek and under his chin to tilt his face back up to yours.

“Seriously. We’re good here.”

Blitzø sighs, letting his head drop back against the couch. “So, I don’t have to worry about you bitchin’ about me to your friends after this?”

“With dick that good, nah.” you joke, grinning when he snickers despite himself. “Look, I think you clearly need to figure out what’s going on between you and the Prince that’s got you all… how you are. But I also think that if you wanna stay the night, that’s fine too.”

“I don’t…”

You dip your head down to kiss his cheek before he can formulate an answer.

“Maybe don’t answer that offer while you’re still inside me.” you tease, and he smirks weakly, his hands squeezing your hips. You climb gracefully off his lap, unabashed by your disheveled appearance – mussed hair and smeared lipstick, wearing only latex boots and underwear stained in both your cum. “I’m going to shower. And I promise, I won’t be offended if you’re gone by the time I get out.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To your surprise, he isn't.

[octuscle]

Reorganization of a law student

I am a university student here in Cambridge. My class teacher urged me to study law. He said I had what it takes. I'm the first person in my family to ever graduate from school. No relative has ever even thought about going to university. And if I hadn't gotten the scholarship, I wouldn't have done it either. The stupid thing is that, as an obvious member of the working class, I never fitted in at university. And the scholarship isn't enough to live on either. I thought about taking a job at McDonald's. That's where I meet the people I understand. Even if they think I'm the snob from university now. It's still better than being the working-class proletarian for my fellow students.

Day 1: Monday

What a day it has been. I commenced my new employment at McDonald's. I felt somewhat out of place in my suit, amidst the others in their uniforms. Nevertheless, they appeared to be amicable. However, I found it difficult to comprehend much of their conversation.

The boss incessantly spoke about burgers and fries. I couldn't help but think, "My dear sir, I am well versed in arguing a case; I hardly require a lecture on flipping a burger."

Day 3: Wednesday

I'm gettin' the hang of it, I guess. It's just about flippin' burgers and slingin' fries, ain't it? Not that complicated, eh? So, I meet this dude named Dave, been workin' here forever. He's like a big deal around here, ya know? But man, he talks funny, all Cockney and stuff.

Anyway, Dave's big into bodybuilding and stuff. He's like, "Bro, you gotta hit the gym with me." I might give it a shot, ya know? Need to lose some of this uni weight, man.

Day 5: Friday

So, turns out Dave ain't just into bodybuildin'. Bloke's obsessed with it. He's always talkin' about his protein shakes and them supplements. Keeps tryin' to get me to take some, reckon it'll make me "ripped".

Said yes to goin' to the pub with him tonight. He reckons he knows some places where we can watch the rugby. Never really been into rugby, but why not, eh?

Day 7: Sunday

Last night was mad. Went to the pub with Dave, ended up watchin' rugby and havin' a few pints. Then some bloke started mouthing off, next thing I know, there's a full-on brawl.

Dave was right in the middle of it, throwin' punches like there's no tomorrow. Got a few bruises meself, but it was proper adrenaline rush, I tell ya.

Day 10: Wednesday

Me life's taken a turn, ain't it? Can't believe how much I've changed in just a week. Started takin' them supplements Dave gave me. Dunno what's in 'em, but I feel like I could take on the world.

Been skippin' lectures to hang out with Dave. He's teachin' me all sorts of things about bodybuildin' and rugby. Who knew I'd find it all so interestin'?

Day 14: Sunday

Two weeks in, and I'm a changed man. Used to be all about them fancy words and legal cases. Now, I'm more interested in bench pressin' and pint down the pub.

Me mates from uni are proper shocked when they see me now. But sod 'em, I'm lovin' life. Dave's me new mentor, and I couldn't be happier. Who needs law when you've got burgers, rugby, and a good old pub brawl?

Inspiration by @mchav1020

[abadbitchblogs]

SOS

Part 1

Pairing: Jey Uso x OC x Damian Priest

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.6k

a/n: Ya girl is alive y’all! I wanted to revamp this because I felt like y'all deserved more! Thank you to everyone who has supported me and my work. I love y'all!  All likes, comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!

-divider by @cafekitsune

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as the entire roster hooped and hollered in  celebration of Trin’s return at the Royal Rumble. While shots, champagne and cocktails were being thrown back, all Amirah could do was watch the way her best friend humbly received the love she deserved with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. It was such a full circle moment for her; comforting Trinity when leaving the company broke her, supporting her decision to join Impact! Wrestling, then experiencing the reception of her homecoming. Watching her fall back into the swing of things like she never left felt so satisfying. Before she could spiral into an emotional breakdown, a large hand waving in her face snapped her out of her thoughts making her scrunch her nose in confusion. “Aye, girl! You good?” Jimmy’s furrowed brows and jutted out bottom lip came into focus, immediately coaxing a laugh out of her. Jimmy was one person that you could count on to lift your spirits without even trying- he was the textbook definition of goofy.

“I'm good, promise!” If he doubted she was telling the truth, the content glimmer in her eyes deterred him from pressing the matter any further. Instead, she looped her arm with his and dragged him back over to their friends where they could enjoy their night out. Plopping down on the sectional next to Trinity, the group of superstars fell into easy conversation catching up with those who are on a different brand as they only see each other during the major PLEs. Somehow the chat turned into the couples pestering the single people; i.e Bayley and Amirah. Bay may have fought to defend herself, but she just found their concern amusing. “Listen. I don't treat being single like a punishment. I love being by myself. I aint gotta worry about nobody cheating on me, nobody resenting me for my career or trying to police my body.” No lies were detected as they all had no choice but to agree. Relationships in their business were hard whether you were with a fellow pro wrestler or a regular person. “Besides, the chances of finding real love like y’all are slim as hell!”

“I know that's right!” Bianca gloated; her and Montez’s reality show was doing so well that they were WWE’s IT couple. Mirah playfully chucked a straw at their girlfriend while Trin, Bay, and Jade were too busy laughing at her EST antics surfacing outside of the ring. “ What about you and Damian? I be seeing y’all posted up looking cozy?” The question got a chorus of ‘oooohs’ from the women, but Bayley  made a face of disgust at her friends’ insinuation. “Girl no. We're just good friends. That man doesn't have a committal bone in his body.” Amirah hummed in affirmation having heard the rumors about Damian Priest and his revolving door of women. “I'm honestly surprised that the two of you aren’t close. He's from New York, you're from New York. He's single and you've sworn off relationships. And I know you like them a little older.” The woman’s jaw dropped at Bayley’s insane attempt at matchmaking. “Girl are you trying to set me up with a sneaky link?” That sent all of the women into another uncontrollable fit of laughter. “You do need some dick.” Trin wheezed out, furthering Amirah’s appalled facial expression before she swatted her best friend’s arm. “You know what? I’m out of here.” A laugh bubbled out of her as she stood dramatically from their huddle only to turn and lock eyes with Jey Uso.

There he was hugging his twin with his chocolate orbs boring into her chestnut ones. Spinning on her heel,  she suggested the girls go down to the dance floor for a song or two. “Come on y'all. We can't let this night pass without shaking a lil something.” Clasping Trinity’s hands, she pulled her to her feet then tugged her towards the stairs with a “We’re going downstairs to dance for a little bit, Jim,” thrown over her shoulder. They scurried by without waiting for a response although she knew Jimmy and Montez were going to follow them anyway to keep an eye on the group. One of the things that Amirah and Trinity bonded over was their love of music and dance with both of them being former dancers. As much as Jimmy hated it when Trin showed her ass, he was going to have to suck it up tonight because they were owed some time to let loose. All that is holy must've been on their side because as soon as they made it to the center of the dancefloor, Twerk by the City Girls and Cardi B blared on the speakers. “Come on, Trin! Lemme see something!” It was always fun to get Trin and Bianca to cut up because Trin was going to kill it every time but Bianca had no damn rhythm. The club was playing banger after banger after banger after banger. If they weren't professional athletes, their feet and edges would be shot to hell. Amirah was throwing her ass back on Trinity, both of them cackling at Jade and Bayley trying to show B how to catch the beat when the tempo slowed to a ballad.  Of course it was a song that a nigga always dedicated to her to make her feel special and now it pissed her off.

This is for you, you, my number one This is for you, you, my number one Oh, yeah, yeah-yeah This is for you, you, my number one

Sucking her teeth as Jimmy giddily cut in for a slow dance with his wife, Mirah cut through the crowd to head back to their section for another drink when she bumped into the only person she did not want to see. His grills seemed to glow in the low light of the club but before he could get a word out, she took a sharp left in search of the restroom. A wave of nausea crawled through her body and she needed to gather herself after coming in contact with that parasite. Just when her hand grasped the doorknob of the ladies room for a moment of solitude, a large hand engulfed her other wrist pausing her movements. “Mirah…” She didn’t even need to turn around to know who the trifling ass voice belonged to. Calmly snatching her wrist from his hold, she shifted her weight to one foot with a snarl etched on her gloss coated lips. “I’m sorry. Do we know each other?” Jey’s eyes softened at her faux confusion as he took a step toward her and her, taking a step back to keep space between them. “Mirah, come on. I just wanna talk to you. I wanna explain myself.” His pleading only made the bile in her throat rise, making her face twist in disgust. 

“Nigga, you should’ve thought about talking to me before you just cut me off like I was some random bitch.” Her words dripped with malice in hope of it being enough to get him to leave her alone. “We ain’t got shit to talk about as far as I’m concerned.” Shoulder checking him as she walked by, not even wanting to be in the same building as him, Jey fought the urge to reach out to her again. He knew getting her to talk to him would be near impossible, but he was determined. Amirah was worth taking accountability and uncomfortable conversations. 

Amirah shuffled through the sea of bodies on the dance floor to find her friends and wish them a goodnight. Trinity spotted the agitated look on her best friend’s face immediately even though she tried to plaster a smile over it. “What happened, boo?” Trin’s brows furrowed in worry only to have Mirah wave it off. “Nothing! I’m good. I’m just going to call it night. That liquor ain’t sitting right in my stomach.” The lie came out faster than she could even register, but it wasn’t a total lie. That bastard did indeed make her sick to her stomach. “Oh okay! We’ll go back with you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.” Gesturing for Jimmy to come over to the two of them, Amirah shook her head in protest. “Hell no. You stay and keep celebrating. You deserve it! I’ll be fine! I already called an Uber and I’ll text you when I’m back in my room.” Pulling her bestie into a tight embrace, she gave her a fat kiss on the cheek before moving to hug their group of friends goodbye. Much to her delight, no one questioned her sudden decline of health too much, just the request of a text message to let them know when she got back to the hotel. With a promise that she would text them as soon as she got in, Mirah flew to the exit of the club like a bat out of hell. 

Sucking in a breath of fresh air, the feeling of relief washed over her soothing the queasiness that plagued her. The Florida streets were surprisingly peaceful at night, allowing her to fully collect herself and actually call an Uber so she just wasn’t standing outside of the club like a lame. As she pulled her phone out of her black purse, the club’s doors opened once more flooding the silence with music. A tap on her shoulder made her slap a friendly smile on her face in case it was a fan wanting an autograph or a picture. But, it was neither and her smile morphed into one of shock when she came face to face with Señor Money in the Bank. Damian was dark and broody so she did not expect to see him at a nightclub, but if his reputation precedes him then he was here for a woman- or two. “Señor Money in the Bank. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Wiping the shock off her face, she mirrored his playful and dare she say- flirty smirk. “Well I was by the bar when I saw you rush out so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Feigning surprise, Amirah placed a hand over her heart and cooed at his sweet gesture. “Wait until everyone finds out that Señor Playboy is a gentleman.”

Her teasing pulled a chuckle out of him as he cocked a brow in question. “Playboy huh?” “Mhmm I’ve heard about you.” Laughing once more, Damian accepted defeat but pushed for info on his supposed playboy reputation. “So you’ve been asking about me?” Zeroing in on Amirah’s smaller frame with his almost charcoal gaze, it was her turn to laugh. “You wish.”  His smile broadened at her bratty comeback before he very noticeably gave her a once over. “¡Te ves hermosa.” Damian’s eyes met hers again with his gravelly voice scratching her brain deliciously. Maybe Bayley was right; he was fun. “Oh I know.” Mirah shot down his suave Spanish approach smugly, crossing her arms over her chest. “¿Hablas español?” “No, but you pick up a few things when you live in Harlem for a while.” 

Both intrigued and amused by the other superstar’s answer, Damian vowed to get to know her better in any capacity. “You know I was actually heading back to the hotel myself. Why don’t we share a ride? Uber is already on the way.” After contemplating getting in a car with him, Amirah pointed an accusatory finger at him. “If you insist, BUT no funny business.” Raising his hands in mock surrender, he flashed another cheek numbing smile at her. “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” Slapping his chest for his dramatics, she couldn’t help her own snicker which he ate all the way up. 

Their Uber pulled up two minutes later and like the gentleman he was, Damian had helped her climb into the truck before getting in after she was comfortable. “So do you still live in New York?” He pried quietly while they enjoyed their ride back to the hotel. “Sure do.” She replied proudly, watching the palm trees go by as the car rolled on. “Me too. Maybe we could be travel partners.” Humming in thought, she turned to him with a soft smile. “Yeah maybe. I don’t know how often I can be seen with you in public though before people start talking.” He chortled at the woman’s response before giving his own, “Fair enough.” The rest of their car ride was occupied with a game of 21 questions about themselves and their interests outside of wrestling. Coming to a stop outside of the hotel, the pair thanked the driver for his service and Damian exited the car first on the other side to come around and help her out. She could only laugh to herself about him turning on the charm heavily. When they entered the elevator, Mirah noticed that the taller man didn’t press a button for his floor so she shot him a quizzical look. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door?” 

With a playful eyeroll she muttered a ‘whatever’ and let the space fill with a comfortable silence. At least she’d be able to get up early for a workout and the night turned out… interesting. A ding broke both of them out of their thoughts as they shuffled off the elevator on the 14th floor. Amirah could feel his eyes studying the swing of her hips while she led him to her room. Abruptly stopping at her door, Damian almost crashed into the back of her too focused on how she managed to walk in those killer shoes effortlessly. “This is me.” She stated, leaning against her door curious to see how the night would end. “Well I think my job here is done. You have arrived safely.” “That reminds me.” Before her friends put out an APB for her, she texted in their group chat that she had mad it back to her room. “Thank you for the escort. I appreciate it.” “It was my pleasure and if you don’t mind,” Damian carefully slid her phone into his hand and input his number. “You know in case I can be of service to you again.” Peering at him through squinted eyes she gave him a drawn out nod. “Riiiiiiiiight.” 

Smirking down at her for the last time, he gently took her hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss on her knuckles while gazing into her cocoa colored eyes. “M’lady, I bid you farewell.” And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall in long strides. Entering her hotel room and shutting the door behind her, Amirah collapsed against the door like women in romcoms. Girl what the fuck just happened. Taking in another deep breath, she headed to the bathroom for a much needed shower and to wring her damn panties out. Wait until she tells the girls about what just happened. Before she climbed into the shower to wash off the scent of booze, lust and worn leather, she shot the mysterious man a text of what she meant to say before he left her utterly speechless. 

{Princesa: Goodnight 🖤}

{Papi Chulo: Buenas noches hermosa 🖤}

mirrormirah

mirrormirah Your favorite athlete's favorite athlete 🖤

Liked by archerofinfamy, trinity_fatu and 482,719 others

View all 25,826 comments

trinity_fatu THAT'S MY FRIEND 🥳

⤿ mirrormirah BEST FRIEND!!!! get it right!

biancabelairwwe the finEST

⤿ mirrormirah That's all you bby ❤️

theyluvjeannie80 I know that's right !!!!!

⤿ mirrormirah I luv you boo 😘

archerofinfamy 😈

⤿ mirrormirah 🥰

⤿ bossglowstandard oop 👀👀

jadecargill sexy af 🥵

⤿ mirrormirah trying to get like you 😋

Taglist:

@empressdede @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @alichesmi @reci1996 @2-muchsauce @cyberdejos2 @southerngirl41 @brie-mode-activated @piinklemonad3 @lucidddreamerrr

[wanda-widow]

Plum Croissants With a Side of Sunshine

Private Chef!f!Reader x Avenger!Bucky

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Bucky isn't used to people caring for him, much less being persistent with it because they think he deserves it. It all comes to a halt when Tony decided to hire a private chef who also has everyone's best interest in mind.

Warnings: slight angst, Bucky's kind of an asshole, fluff

18+ MDNI

Don't forget to like and reblog 🩷

Bucky's usual afternoon routine was work out, go for a run, and then go to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers as dinner. Simple, easy, and he was left alone. He liked the familiar routine, the limited interaction. And he was perfectly fine with it staying that way.

What he wasn't perfectly fine with was walking into the kitchen one afternoon to find it packed with agents and his fellow team members, the vast dining table filled with fresh food. He took one look and turned the other way, deciding to eat later when Steve saw him.

"Hey Buck, you gotta try some of these dishes, they're almost heavenly" Steve yelled over thx chatter, waving him over as Bucky sighed wearily, turning around to almost smack into you.

"Ah, sorry" you said sheepishly, the platter of food wobbling in your hand slightly before you steadied it. Setting it on the counter, you turned back to Bucky to take in his full appearance. Shorter hair, piercing blue eyes, light stubble around his jaw. Tall. You offered a small smile up at him.

"I'm Y/N, Tony hired me a couple days ago but I haven't seen you around. You must be Bucky, right?" you said, excited to finally meet the super soldier that the team had been telling you about.

"Yeah, it's Bucky" he responded flatly before walking to the table to get some food, cutting off any further conversation.

You frowned to yourself but decided to not take it personally. Natasha had told you he was closed off especially after the whole deal with the Accords. Not that you could blame him, he had been through enough in one lifetime. You went to go wash the dishes, wondering how you could get the surly soldier to open up to you.

A few days passed with no sight of Bucky but you weren't surprised. It was late one evening when on a whim, you decided to bake. Taking out the ingredients you needed, you hummed some song that was playing on the radio earlier, feeling yourself slip into your comfort zone again.

Bucky was up, as he always was during these late nights. Sleep seemed impossible at times, flashes of blood and chaos invading his mind every time he closed his eyes. Scrubbing a weary hand down his face, he got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants to get some water.

As he padded to the kitchen, he paused at the sight of you dancing to your own tune in the kitchen, cleaning a couple dishes. The faint scent of a pastry layered with something sweeter enticed him but he shook himself out of the trace.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, voice rough with disuse as he slipped past you to get a glass.

"Oh! Bucky, hi. Uh, something like that. Just had the urge to make something and since I am getting paid to cook, might as well make the most of it" you said softly, stretching as you made your way to the oven.

His eyes followed your movements as you pulled out a steaming rack of croissants, the flaky pasty littered with strays of purple streaks.

"Plum croissants" you explained after seeing his furrowed brow. "Wanna try one? Steve told me you liked plums"

"No" he said flatly but his eyes kept straying back to the dessert. Frustrated, he left the kitchen with his glass of water, leaving you wondering if you had messed up.

However, in the next 2 days, the croissants were gone. Of course, the team could've eaten them but whenever you asked around, they said that they never knew they existed.

You were finishing up the last of the dinner dishes when you heard quiet footsteps behind you, freezing when you turned around.

Raising an eyebrow, you fought back a smile at the sight of Bucky holding the croissant jar against his chest, the container clearly empty.

"You liked my croissants" you stated as he scowled, putting the jar on the counter.

"They were okay" he muttered, glancing away as you held back a giggle, taking the jar to wash it.

"You uh... you like baking?" he asked awkwardly, grabbing a napkin to clean the grooves in his metal arm.

"Yeah... I think it's a little more calming than cooking" you replied after a moment, turning back around to lean against the counter, watching him.

"What." he snapped slightly, avoiding eye contact like a guilty child.

"I can't believe you actually liked the plum croissants" you laughed softly, a bright smile blooming across your face. Bucky didn't trust himself to look at you, at the sunshine you radiated.

Coming around the counter, you slid onto the stool next to him, observing his expression for a moment. Troubled.

"You don't like it when people take care of you?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Stop prying" he frowned, glancing quickly at you before meticulously focusing on one area of his arm.

"I'll take that as a yes" you hummed, yawning and stretching your arms above your head. "You know it's not a bad thing, people are just looking out for you"

He stayed silent, staring at his arm.

"Bucky?"

"I don't need your pity"

There was a strain in his voice, barely, but it was there.

"Bucky-"

"You're just a fucking chef, what would you know" came his biting reply.

"O-oh. Sorry, I didn't... um, it's late so I'm gonna go to bed" you whispered, the words cutting deeper than you'd like to admit. Sure, you were a chef but you also knew people. Knew how to connect with them.

Bucky watched as you hurried off, wondering why his words felt so wrong after he said it. He could almost feel the dimness of your light, like he sucked it out of you.

It was easy to say he hated himself for it.

It was a week later when you found a brown paper bag placed outside your door. You were oblivious to the pair of eyes watching you, wanting you to open it.

You reached out to get it, a familiar faint sweet smell reaching your nose. Opening it, you saw a somewhat attempted plum croissant and bit the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh.

You glanced around the hall before you spotted him lingering in a corner, watching your reaction. You stood there quietly, waiting for him to say something.

"I'm.... sorry... for lashing out" he finally said, shoulders slumping in defeat as he walked over to where you stood. "I'm not used to people being so insistent on caring about me or going out of their way to make... croissants"

"Thank you for the apology. And the croissant" you said, looking back down at the sad croissant before putting the bag down and wrapping your arms around him.

He paused for a moment, not used to the physical affection before wrapping his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. After a moment, he tilted his head down so that he could nuzzle his nose in your hair.

"Can you make some more croissants though?" came his muffled voice.

"Bucky!" you laughed, slapping his shoulder as he continued hugging you while walking you backwards to the kitchen.

[writingoddess1125]

I Fell in love Alone

Was on my sad Spotify and thought of this. First sad fic!

Enjoy Depression!!

Sad Angst

No warnings just sadness

Buggy x GN reader

Part 2

Sitting up from bed, you covered yourself with the large patchwork blanket still nude from the evening before and alone like every morning after.

For 6 months it had been this way with your Captian- the infamous Captian Buggy, at first it had started off as a drunken fling but he kept calling you back.. every night he called for you, had you sit close to him, whisper sweet words over how you were his only. This had continued for these 6 months but every day that passed you couldn't help but feel... empty?

It was like his words had become no better then a script that he followed in order for you to stay the night in his bed, like his touches were to only satisfy his need and not to savor you.

Sitting there in his large bed you look around, like for the first time you'd seen it. Had he ever spent a morning with you? Ever bothered to wake you up from your slumber?... had he ever kissed you? A hollowness began to fill your soul as the realization flooded you.

Getting up you dress quickly, not wanting to stay in the room any longer as that hollowness seemed to fill you further. Rushing out quickly you head out to go to the messhall for a meal, walking in you heard the place filled to the brim. No one bothered to question were you had come from- everyone knew.

Getting your food you sat with a random group of performers.

"Oh person of the month I see" Some of them giggle at you, they always did this- while they were too fearful to outright call you our of your name they would do this instead.

"You do know I heard (Y/N) his flavor of the month right? Is pushing six months- Gotta say longest Captian has had so theyve gotta be doing something right"

The juggler girl said with a laugh, the others at the table also agreeing. Some of the people there talking about their time with the Captian as well, you sitting quietly pushing around your breakfast as you felt a hole in your heart developing with each tale of passionate nights and sweet nothings he had said to your fellow crewmates that he did bed drunk or sober alike.

Their words felt like blades against paper skin and they just cut so deep.

After exiting the messhall you went to your post- continuing to do the large labor of your job, the pull from your muscles and sweat from your back not even facing you as the labor felt better then his gaze which you knew was following you. He always did like to watch you, Normally you turn back and smile at him savoring his validation but.. not now.. not ever again.

You hadn't stopped, not until the call for dinner had brought you out of your working daze. The need for food beating the emotional exhaustion, so you headed back to the mess hall to gather some food.

Making a plate you try to hide, seeing Buggy was there laughing loudly and drinking. You knew the moment he saw you he'd-

"Ah there you are (Y/N)! Come over here" He said with a laugh and waved you over. Reluctantly you did, knowing were he wanted you- seated right to his side so he could show you off while speaking with his underlings. Like a child showing off his shiny toy.

He laughed loudly, his hand finding its way to your hip as he held you close.. your skin crawling st the feeling as you felt more like an object then anything romantic at this point.

"So as I was saying- I'm sure (Y/N) doesn't mind- besides I'm sure they would wear a (least favorite color) leotard for the next show!" He laughed, his hands still on you as he spoke like you weren't even there. It felt like he had just stabbed you in the chest, as a burn of embrassment surgery through you. Looking up to see a few of your peers from afar looking at you, like for the first time you had seen the pity in their eyes and the second hand embrassment at the sight of you.

"Buggy... what is my favorite color?" You ask calmly, He looked at you with a raised brow laughing off the question as he thought it was a joke at first. It wasn't until he caught your eye that he realized you were serious and his lips sealed shut at the lack of answer.

"....When is my birthday?" You ask a different question, a realization of what you were doing set in and he gave a laugh placing his hand back on your hip.

"I know we're your birthmark is" He says with a laugh as the other crewmates in earshot laughed as well. You gently peel his hand from your hip and stand up, Walking out of the mess hall as you hear Buggy call after you which you ignored.

Humiliation shot through your system as the feeling of hot tears warmed your eyes... you were a fool- The biggest fool in this entire circus that you were apart of. Walking out onto the deck you grab one of the spare blankets that seemed to always be left out, wasn't like anyone really kept the place organized anyway..

Standing by the railing of the ship you wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, looking out at the endless sea. At night like this when the moon was full it looked like you were sailing on stars.

"Hey There you are! What the hell was that about? You made me look like a fool in there!-" Buggy started, you could hear he was buzzed just by the jovial tone in his voice.

"Ha... you the fool.. hilarious" You say softly the feeling of fresh tears staring to run down your face-

"Aw don't be that way baby! Come on its no big deal anyway, let's say I make it up to you back in my cabin and we forget this night even happened"

You look back at Buggy, The large tears running down your cold cheeks. He froze, his heart clenching at the sight of you like this and he.. didn't know what to do- What to say. Had you ever cried in the times you had know him.

"Whats wrong why are yo-" You cut him off quick. Closing your eyes tightly in hopes to stop the tears.

"What is my favorite color?.. a food I like.. anything?" You whispered out, Biting your lip to keep a sob back.

"I...I what do you want me to say (Y/N)?.. I mean is it uh Is it Gray? Blue? Red? I mean you like... Me?" He managed to breath out a forced laugh, swallowing a lump in his throat as he gestured randomly around himself like you could understand how ridiculous this was for him.

"You don't love me do you?.. I really am just am your flavor of the month right?"

Buggy's face falls at your words. You take a shaky breath at this and wait for his answer, but he just stands there opening and closing his mouth unable to form words- A mix of a gentle sob and laugh finally escape you at his lack of answer.

You sniffles and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself as if it could cover the vulnerability you felt and fear in your heart. Turning away from Buggy as you slowly walked past him, wiping the few remaining tears away.

"You know....I never thought I'd fall in love alone. Goodnight Captian..."

You say softly before heading downstairs, leaving Buggy standing on the deck of his ship alone and a pain he had never felt before in his heart.

[simp-ly-writes]

hiiii im currently looking for spencer and Alex fics and i found your Page. Could you mabey write one with spencer? Mabey with the reader working in art Departement and reader and spencer are Engaged?? And they film a who memed it Episode with spencer cortney and Angela and reader is in the "crowd" and gave in a meme about spencer and he is the only one who knows that it was reader, because its like an inside joke and they are all cute and sweet when it happenes and after and all that :))))). (Sorry if its Hard to understand im writing this in a hurry)

Meet-Cute

─────── · · A Smosh FanFic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x Fiancé!Reader

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, fluff, attempt at humour, meet-cute, pre-established relationship/engagement, feel-good.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 964

─ · · A/N: hope you all are having good weeks! 🫶 thank you for the ask, anon, this was was so cute and sweet! and I had way to much for doing that drawing XD

─────── · ·

You met your fiancé at work, most people would think that not to be the most romantic starting point for a relationship and they would be correct. On the first night you and Spencer met, an editor and sculptor both thinking to be the only one left in the office and needing a moment before continuing working. You decided to take a nap on the Games couch.

Bringing a blanket from your desk and a pillow from on of the offices, you set your alarm before practically throwing yourself onto what you thought to be just couch... but how wrong you would be.

(Charles) Spencer Agnew would find himself already on the couch, separate alarm set and forgotten about and fast asleep. That was until his now fiancé landed right into his arms with an abrupt thud before you both were jumping off the couch and screaming like little girls.

─────── · ·

You chuckle to yourself when a meme of that exact scenario flashes up on screen (of your own doing) and do your best to conceal your laughter at the memory while sitting behind camera. The fellow arts department staff also snicker to one another yet everyone else in the room had no clue why a couch and two poorly drawn, MS-paint stick figures with pink-tails were on screen. Everyone but Spencer.

Courtney and Angela, the other two contestants competing against Spencer for the title of winner today take to the crowd as you all neutralize your expressions and mask indifference when Angela's eyes catch your own and squint, trying to pry into your brain yet you only shrug and smile before knocking your shoulder against Shayne who appears equally confused as the rest of the cast members.

"Can we have our answers written on the boards, please," Tommy politely asks. Courtney taps her marker lid against the table, confusion if evident on her face as she looks to Spencer who looks all too content with his answer. "You know who it is, Spence?" She asks, raising a brow as this meme seemed obscenely obscure.

Spencer just shrugged, smiling towards the camera, his left hand tapping his board in a subtle hint that no one but you caught on to as you too started twiddling the fingers on your left hand before Tommy was calling time. "I DON'T KNOW, GIVE ME ONE MORE MINUTE," Angela begged, now standing up from the table before writing down her answer with a huff. Courtney looked positively stressed, "Spencer c'mon give me a hint, I've gotta feeling that I'm going to be made fun of for not knowing this one!" Courtney pleaded as Spencer's grin only grew and yours did too.

"I can't help ya," Spencer replied, now leaning onto the table, curious as to what the others answers would be. "Angela could you present first please," Tommy asked extending his hand out to point at her board.

Flipping it around, in small letters Angela wrote, Alex Tran. "I think its Alex... I guess? I mean Spencer wrote down his answer WAY too fast, so it has to be someone close to him-"

"See that's what I thought too," Courtney added, turning her board around now, and she had written down, SHAYNE, in big, bold capital letters. "I know they hang out a lot together outside of work and by the poorly drawn figures, I don't know on purpose or not, it could be him."

"And Spencer, reveal the answer please," Tommy asked, already knowing his would be the correct one. "I said, (name)."

"And do tell us and the viewers at home, why you choose them."

"Well, (name) and I recently got engaged, woohoo!" Spencer cheers as the office claps and whistles, you start slipping down your chair, embarrassed but flail your ring in the air like a white flag offering. "and this is a meme of our first time meeting each other. We both were staying overnight at the office and didn't think that someone else would also be staying and nevertheless using the couch so we ended up falling on one another and screamed like little girls in panic," Spencer continued yet barley, laughing so harshly in between and everyone seemed to as well as Tommy was knelt over, face red and gasping for air.

"Now that is a story, congratulations you two! And congratulations to Spencer for winning Who Meme'd It with that final point!" You stand up and cheer and Spencer points to you in the crowd, the cameras panning over before you shout. "Thats my man!" and everyone is in tears, clenching their stomaches of laughter.

─────── · ·

Once the cameras were all shut off and the office was going back to their offices and stations, you waited patiently by the door to greet Spencer before he had to direct a Games Video. "I'm surprised not many people knew how we met," he comments, wrapping an arm around your waist as you press a kiss to his cheek.

"I am too, but well, we are quite private about our relationship in the first place. So it would make sense," you say, walking over to the kitchen to grab water bottles for the two of you.

"Well, I'm sure thats going to change now," Spencer says, looking over your shoulder and you do the same. A wild group of cast members are all rushing over to you both as a thousand questions are being waterfall into your face and next thing you both knew, a thirty minute lunch had turned into a two-hour one. But when sharing a kickstarter and some snacks with Spencer's arm wrapped securely around you, his laughter in your ear as he whispered things only for you to hear, you wouldn't have it any other way.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: 🥹

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt

[starrysvn]

place in me | jung wooyoung

pairing: chef!wooyoung x chef!gn reader

genre: angst, slow burn, fluff, ex2l

word count: 17k

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

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

networks: @cromernet 🫶🏻

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

masterlist | navi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could I think about it?” 

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

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

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

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

Just one more night.

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

–

“You look like you need a beer.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know if I want that…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, I do.”

“But?” 

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

“I see…”

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed.

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

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

“Hey, we did that too!”

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

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

“What are you gonna do?” 

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Oh god, your mother was right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you.” 

Now you truly did find it hard to breathe. 

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

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

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

“I was speaking,” he said.

“You were rambling.” 

You both started laughing, hearts singing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huffed a laugh, pretending to be offended. 

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-” 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what are you up to?” 

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

“Would you like to catch up over coffee?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I quit.” You shrugged. 

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

“Dead, gone and buried, apparently.” 

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

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

“That’s…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I still need to find a co-owner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a wonderful dream, love.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t come. 

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

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

Well, you thought, there goes the clarification process. 

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s do it.”

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

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

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

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

“Then let’s do it.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

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

“I missed you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As I’ll ever be.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Are you?”

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

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

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

“See, now you’re exaggerating!”

“I’m not.” 

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

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

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

-

“Can I have some more?” 

“Me too!”

“You can’t ask that!”

“Says who?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled, getting to work quick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad,” he said. “Me too.” 

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

Just you and him. 

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

“Sorry, I-”

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

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

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

“Should we get to cleaning up?” 

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Couldn’t sleep?”

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

“What’re you doing here?” 

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

You didn’t know how to fix it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How may I help you?” 

“I have an offer to make you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did Hwang want?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I wouldn’t.” 

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” 

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

“Can we talk?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wooyoung-”

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

You turned off the flame, walking closer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think we’d make it.” 

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

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Playful Dress Vignette

"I can take my chances as they come"

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: UGHHHHHH～～～ THAT PISSED ME OFF!!

Ace: I thought Riddle-ryōchō had gotten a bit more lenient, but obviously not.

Ace: "A student's main duty is his schoolwork! To abandon that is completely inexcusable!"

Ace: …Can't believe he'd say something like that, he's more stubborn than anything!

Ace: Man, after I got all excited with planning the outing. Thanks to someone it all went sour.

Deuce: When you say someone… Are you talking about me?

Ace: Who else? What kind of complete bonehead goes and snitches to the Housewarden like that?

Deuce: But- but, we're supposed to tell either the Housewarden or a Professor if we have to be absent…

Deuce: And besides, now that you mention it, it's definitely not a good thing to skip class.

Ace: What do you mean, "now that you mention it"…? Did you think up 'til getting yelled at by the Housewarden that skipping class was okay!?

Ace: So that's, why you just ran to the Housewarden so brazenly… Ugh.

Ace: Why'd I even try to invite someone this stupid in the first place…?

Deuce: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, STUPID!?

Deuce: Ah!! …Not very honor student of me to shout like that. …I'm gonna go cool off outside.

[door clicks open… slams shut]

Ace: Wh… What's with that guy, why's he the one getting upset!? That really grinds my gears.

Ace: Ughh, I can't deal with this anymore. I gotta finish packing before he gets back.

Ace: I have my phone charger, tissues, breath mints…

Ace: And I guess… I don't need my wallet. They said it's all free, so.

Ace: Last but not least, I definitely can't forget my Playful Land ticket!

Ace: …This should be enough. If I bring too much stuff, it'll just get in the way when I'm trying to have fun.

Ace: All that's left to do is to wake up before the sun rises and get to where we're all meeting, but…

Ace: Now that the Housewarden knows that I'm planning on skipping class, he'll definitely be on the lookout.

Ace: I thought it'd be pretty easy to slip out if I had spent the night at Ramshackle…

Ace: But if I do anything stupid now, it'll be off with all our heads, even [Yuu] and Grim's.

Ace: I already told [Yuu] and Grim not to invite anyone… I can't be the one to screw this up.

Ace: I've finished packing for tomorrow, so… Guess I'll check out possible escape routes!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Hallway]

Heartslabyul Student A: Hey man, did you hear? Sounds like the Housewarden's in a rage because of Ace.

Heartslabyul Student B: Again～? That first year never learns, huh. So, what's it about this time?

Heartslabyul Student C: I mean… I don't really know all the details. But let's make sure not to set him off any further…

[rabble, rabble]

Ace: Looks like my upperclassmen heard what happened. At least they don't know about Playful Land…

Ace: I bet there'd be a few guys that would turn me in on a dime just to save their own skin, too.

Ace: It'd be bad if they see I'm missing in the morning, so I think I'll treat my roommates to some juice to keep them quiet.

Ace: Man… It's not something I usually notice, but it looks like a bunch of the guys in the dorm use this corridor a lot.

Ace: There's a slim chance that someone might wake up early and see me, so… I guess I'll try to find another route.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Kitchen]

Ace: Hmmm. Looks like the kitchen doesn’t get much traffic…

Ace: Nice. Looks like this is the best way out!

Ace: If I go outside from that door there… I don't think anyone will notice right?

Ace: It's just dumb just following orders because the Housewarden said no, or just letting him chew me out just for skipping one day of class.

Ace: I ain't a blockhead like some people. I'm way better.

Ace: There's no point to anything if you miss out just 'cause you're trying to follow the rules. I'm gonna make sure I can take my chances as they come.

[Playful Land - Catch The Star]

―After the Playful Stage Show

Fellow: See now, it's on the horizon: the ride that Grim-kun has been so excited for!!

Grim: MYAH!? WHERE IS IT WHERE IS IT!? I WANNA RIDE IT ALREADY!!

Vil: Even after all that dancing in the show… This little potato is still rife with energy.

Ace: Huh, you tired already, Vil-senpai?

Vil: Who do you think you're talking to? Seems to me like this little potato has no manners.

Ace: It's not as bad as Expedition Whale, but looks like it's pretty popular regardless. There's a really long line.

Jack: Hm…? But that's…

Grim: Yo, Fellow. I said I wanted to ride on a trapeze swing.

1. This is a bit different… 2. Rather than a swing, it looks more like an umbrella

Fellow: Oh no, this is it, without a doubt. This is our very popular attraction, The "Parasol Swing."

Ace: The swing portion looks like an umbrella, but it's definitely flying through the sky. But why's it shaped like an umbrella?

Jack: Wasn't there that one scene in Wish Upon a Star where the wooden puppet's teacher hung onto a carriage with an umbrella?

Jack: In the book I read, that teacher was a cricket with enough guts to weather both the swaying of the carriage and the dust it kicked up.

Fellow: What vast knowledge you possess! Did you hear, Gidel, his quick and easy explanation!

Gidel: … [nods]

Vil: Ah yes, I do recall seeing some gentlemanly-looking cricket plushes in the shop.

Vil: That must have been the wooden puppet's teacher you mentioned.

Jack: Huh, so they had some plushes of the wooden puppet's teacher? My younger brother and sister both read the book too, so maybe that'd be a good souvenir for them.

Ace: Cool. They got plushes of the cricket from Wish Upon a Star here too, huh～

1. I'm curious what kind of cricket it is. 2. I want to see the plushes.

Ace: Same. Looks like we still got time before it's our turn, so let's go check it out.

Jack: What do you mean, check it out…? If we jump out of line, we'll lose our spot.

Ace: Well yeah, that's if we all go… But as long as one person stays in line, we should be fine, right?

Ace: Soooo… Please and thank you, Vil-senpai! Can you hold the line for us!?

Jack: What!?  You're seriously just asking an upperclassman to wait in line for you?

Ace: But like, Vil-senpai sounded like he was tired after that stage show.

Ace: We're still at the back of the line, and it's pretty shady here, so you won't have to worry about sunburn, and it looks like the flower beds have a lip that you can sit on, too…

Ace: Looks like it's the perfect place to take a break, don'tcha think? I'll make sure to grab you something to drink while we go check out the shops, too!

Fellow: Fahaha! What a thoughtful little student.

Vil: You really are a smooth-talker.

Vil: You're quick on your feet only in specific situations, or rather, you don't show your hand. It's good that you follow your convictions, but…

Vil: Although Trey followed after you in the end, the fact that you still went to slip out of your dorm even after Riddle was on high alert shows just how duplicitous you are.

Vil: I'm so thankful that Pomefiore didn't get anyone as rambunctious as you.

[Playful Land – Gentle Square]

Grim: That trapeze swing was so fuuun～!

Ace: Yeah, it was a little more thrilling than it looked. And we were able to figure out why it looked like umbrellas by checking out the shop beforehand, too, so that was good.

Ace: Jack and Vil-senpai went off to look at something else, so what should we do?

Grim: Hey, that's the Friendly Fox and the Gentle Cat over there!

Ace: Oh, you're right. They didn't show up to the stage show earlier, so I thought they didn't have live mascots here.

1. I want to see them up close! 2. I want to take a picture with them.

Ace: Ehhh～ Seriously? I got no interest in that whatsoever. You don't care about mascots either, right, Grim?

Grim: I read somewhere that when ya come to an amusement park, ya gotta take a picture with the mascots! I'll do it too!

Ace: Pass. I'm gonna go get in line for the roller coaster again. You guys can do it yourselves.

Guest A: I never thought I'd be able to take a picture with the Friendly Fox and Gentle Cat. This'll make a great memory.

Guest B: Hey, let's upload it to Magicam right away. It's proof that we came to Playful Land!

Ace: Hold on, wait a moment…

Ace: It might be better to upload a picture with those specific mascots to brag to everyone about how I got to come to this amusement park!

1. So that means… 2. Does that mean…?

Ace: Change of plans. It won't take too long to just take one photo, so let's get to it.

Ace: Woah, the Fox and Cat are coming our way. Eh!?

Friendly Fox: ～♪

Ace: Why's he spreading his arms out wide…? Feels like he's tryin' to be real welcoming.

Gentle Cat: !!

Ace: He's pointing at us, shaking his hips, and swinging his arms left and right… Ah.

Ace: Wait, did you see the stage show earlier? You tryin' to let us know how good we did?

Grim: The Fox and Cat are both nodding their heads. Guess they got an eye for awesomeness!

Ace: Looks like. Up close, this Fox's got real round eyes. He's got a super sincere face, like he could never tell a lie.

Ace: The Cat's real fluffy looking and is constantly smiling. He looks completely harmless and kind.

Ace: Basically, both look like real cool dudes!

Ace: …Hm? Now the Fox and Cat are dancing.

Grim: Oh hey, that's the dance we did earlier on the Playful Stage! Rave-up, up, dum-dee-dum… ♪

Ace: Those too look happy now that Grim started dancing, now… What, they want us to do it too!?

1. Rave-up! Up! ♪ 2. That's a little embarrassing…

Puppet: Dear Guests, You Look Spectacular! I'll Take A Picture Of You In A Rave-Up Pose!

Ace: Hrrrm, at this point, it'd be lame to act embarrassed, so… Guess I just gotta strike that pose, then.

Ace: Mmkay, can you take a pic with my phone?

Puppet: Understood, I Shall Take Your Phone. Alright, Everyone, Strike A Pose… Here We Go. Say Cheese!

[Playful Land – Bazaar]

Ace: WHEW, WE'RE FINALLY ALMOST AT SAGE'S ISLAND～!

Ace: Playful Land's exploding everywhere, and I've been hearing a lot of super sketch noises for a while now…

Ace: But at this rate, we should be able to make it to Crane Port somehow, right?

Ace: Even a boring island like this feels like a sight for sore eyes after a terrifying ordeal like that.

Trey: Seriously, yeah. We're all back home safe thanks to you guys, Ace.

Cater: Yup, yup. Although guess it's a bit uncool of Cay-kun to have to be saves by our juniors～

Ace: Heheh. But c'mon, the only reason we were even able to last that long is all thanks to you guys～

Ace: Oh, yeah. Get a load of this, guys. Something amazing happened a bit ago…

Ace: I even got some praise from Leona-senpai.

Trey: From Leona? Wow, that's unbelievable. Never thought I'd see the say where he'd praise someone so sincerely.

Ace: Right!? Well, I'm a little hesitant to say his praise was sincere, but…

Ace: When I told him how I magically tossed my foxtail souvenir so the puppets would go after it,

Ace: He said… "Sounds like those puppets were more like puppies, huh. How kind of you to toss 'em a bone."

Ace: That's basically his way of showing appreciation, right? …But now that I'm putting it in words, I'm starting to doubt it.

Cater: Yeah, yeah, I totes think he was praising you ☆ You got Floyd-kun saying good things about you, too.

Ace: Huh, Floyd-senpai!?

Trey: Yeah, he said something like… "I didn't have a lick of hope in 'em, but they actually took much longer to get turned into puppets than I thought."

Ace: That doesn't sound like praise to me at all? But I guess that's better than him saying he'd squeeze me…

Ace: Uh, so～ There's something I want to ask…

Ace: If we told him about how I totally had a hand in helping dismantle the evil Playful Land…

Ace: Do you think even Riddle-ryōchō would praise me and say I did a good job…?

Trey/Cater: Nope. / No way.

Ace: Tch, didn't think that'd work.

Trey: Maybe if we had been able to get back before dark, we would have been able to figure out some kid of excuse, but…

Trey: We've been gone pretty much all the night without any kind of notice. I can definitely already see Riddle's face red with rage.

Cater: Yup. I think we all gotta make sure to prepare for the worst…

Ace: Siiigh… I'm way too exhausted from putting in all that work, so it's gonna be a pain to deal with the Housewarden's anger, too...

???: How can you sound so miserable when we're finally able to make it back to campus?

Ace: Ah, Vil-senpai! Did you come here to praise me, too?

Vil: Absolutely not. It looked like the silver-tongued Ace might actually be in distress, so I came to impart some advice.

Ace: Wait, does that mean… You know some way to calm Riddle-ryōchō down!? Please, tell me!

Vil: It's nothing too difficult. The proper solution in these sorts of situations is to…

Vil: FACE HIM STRAIGHT ON AND APOLOGIZE EARNESTLY!

Vil: Your penchant for making excuses will only irritate Riddle further.

Vil: The best way to receive his forgiveness is to take his ire directly.

Ace: EEEHH!?

Trey: True, Ace has a quick wit and is pretty clever… But I'm pretty sure our best bet this time would be to be honestly apologetic.

Cater: I bet Riddle-kun was super worried about us too～ When we get back, we should all three of us apologize to him together.

Vil: See, third years are fully capable of understanding. Ace, you should also gracefully accept defeat.

Ace: NO WAAAY～!

Trey: When you deflate like that, it's like all that energy you were bouncing around with since last night was a mirage or something.

Ace: Urgh… But we went through so much. I ain't gonna let it end on a sour note.

Ace: If that's the case, then I'm gonna totally brag about how much fun I had on the attractions and on the stage!

Cater: Ace-chan is really...

Trey: Yeah, he really is stubborn.

Requested by Anonymous.

[cursingtoji]

I hope it's okay to send another one of the cliches in! (I absolutely ADORED the Toji one you did! Perfection, pure perfection) I saw you wanted some Itachi and I feel like 23 is just so perfect for him. Maybe adding prompt 12 with it too? (Feel free to ignore if we can only send in one ask though!

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔

⊱ plus touching foreheads; The Clichés ™ event

note: bless you darling for giving me the chance to write for my beloved itachi

A warm night embraces you as you walk amongst the villagers with a basket of ingredients for your dinner. A million thoughts go by your head and you aren't quite aware of your surroundings until you focus on your path ahead and notice a familiar figure walking towards you.

You gasp once you notice who it is, dropping your basket.

"Itachi?" panic threats to take over you, he can't be seen here, yet no one else seems to have noticed the most wanted ninja standing in the middle of the busy street.

"Hello, angel."

"Am I in a genjutsu?"

"No," he leans, taking your basket from the ground and handing it back to you, "But everyone else is."

"Isn't it too risky?" your eyes wander through his pretty features, realizing that it has been a few months since the last time he sneaked in the village to see you. Tonight he doesn't have his usual cloak, instead he wore a gray shirt and no bandana, you reached for his hair, brushing it away from his face.

Itachi takes your hand delicately, kissing your fingers, "You're worth it."

You take one step closer, touching his forehead with yours and breathing in his scent.

"I missed you" you confess, it's a weird feeling being so intimate to him in public, you can hear people talking around you, buying and selling goods, kids running, playing ninja, but you thrust his skills.

"I'm afraid I can't stay much longer, angel" he holds your hand tightly, his face is the same as the boy you knew years ago, yet his dark circles look deeper every time you see him.

"Let me take care of you, 'tachi" you beg, wanting nothing more than to take him home with you, have a bath, wash each other's hair, make tea and kiss every inch of him in a fresh bed, loving and being loved by him till morning eventually comes.

"There's nothing I want more" he confesses and you know it's true, but his tone indicates that will not be possible tonight.

"Promise me you will be back soon" you know it's hard for him to catch a break to come here, besides all the risk he takes getting into the village he still has to mislead his fellow akatsuki members so they won't find out about his Konoha love, making a potential target out of you in case things go south.

"I'll try my best" he brings both his hands to your face and takes his time admiring it until his eyes eventually fall onto your lips, he misses your kisses more than anything else he had in konoha.

Your eyes close but right before he can kiss you he feels a disturbance, like someone is beginning to notice the genjutsu.

"Sorry, angel, I must go now" he lets go of you and you sigh, "I love you" you watch him walk backwards until he fades like smoke.

"Sensei!" you hear a yell and look over your shoulder seeing Naruto and the rest of team seven coming towards you, Kakashi looks around suspiciously.

"Naruto, hi" you greet and the boy begins to tell you about the mission they just came back from. You try to dismiss the look Kakashi has on you.

"Were you shopping?" Naruto notices your basket.

"Yeah, just some stuff for dinner" you open your basket to show him, but you're surprised by a bouquet of flowers lingering on the inside.

"Wow, is it a romantic dinner?" Sakura inquires.

"Now, now, kids, you gotta wake up early tomorrow for training” Kakashi claps once, making the kids whine. You look at Sasuke, noticing the similar features with the man that was there just a few seconds ago.

Sasuke meets your gaze, you dismiss the nostalgic feeling by ruffling his hair.

“Good luck, guys.”

see also: “what if someone see us?” + Jiraiya

[chaisshitposts]

Write A Letter To Yourself To Find The Answers You Want. || 'Dear Subconscious...'

have ya ever had a problem at hand that ya just couldn't figure out a solution to? it's such a deeply perplexing problem that ya just decide to shrug it off and maybe 'sleep it off.' and so, ya do just that... and maybe in the middle of the night, or as soon as ya wake up, or maybe even two days later in the middle of a totally unrelated task, ya get a random idea, a random thought, or perhaps a random solution that was the answer. that was yer subconscious, answerin' that problem ya were so stumped on.

which got me thinkin'... why haven't i considered askin' my subconscious a direct question? ive seen this happen in movies before, usually with— people who have DID or MPD, or perhaps someone who sleep walks, or suffers black outs. I've seen people leave notes and messages to themselves.

why haven't I just written a letter addressed to my subconscious and let it solve everything for me? why haven't I asked my subconscious to show me the answer or give me the answers I need to tap into being in the state of pure consciousness? the letter is personal to me, and my subconscious knows me best, so why the fuck wouldn't I trust what it has to say? i already do muscle testin' to get my yes/no answers, I already do fuckin' tarot readin's on myself— so... why not do this? can't believe I haven't done this yet.

and with that thought, I got my handy notebook, sat down at my dining room table, and got to writin', starting the letter off by saying 'dear subconscious...' I spilled my most vulnerable guts afterwards and the rest was history.

I'm gonna tell ya right now, full transparency, I wrote to my subconscious about how much I want to enter the void state/I Am State and asked it for clear signs in my letter, I told it to give me the answers I want in a way that only I could understand. an experiment worth while... originally, i wasn't gonna post this but then i got my answers and i wanted to share this with ya lovely folks of this lil' dandy community.

I bet you're wonderin' what was the answer I got from my subconscious. I got multiple answers, as terrifying as that is, and I cannot even fathom how I can explain them properly. All I know is that I feel unwavering peace in all aspects of my life. but if yer really curious, I got a message in a tarot readin' video and through the spinoff of adventure time that just came out, not too long ago on max. Fiona and Cake. the shit they say in the show is... I can't even explain how it made me feel, just finished watchin' the entire series today. it was everything I needed to know, I asked my subconscious for an answer that only I would understand and what would ya know... i love musicals and animated shows/movies, and behold, i gotta damn combo. i definitely recommend it to my fellow manifesters!!! they literally talk about how easy it is to create yer own REALITIES in the damn show... that's what we fuckin' do!!!!

how do I write a letter to myself?

address yourself a letter as 'dear subconscious' and then get to writin'. you're literally sendin' yerself a letter, say whatever ya want in it, write yer secrets, write yer fears, write yer dreams. ask yer subconscious whatcha need to do to get yer dream life guaranteed and ya shall receive. some people may not like the idea of this but, what's the harm in a lil' conversation with yerself and findin' out the answers ya need. It can especially help ya if you've been strugglin' for a while, 'specially with all ya folks out there who've been on yer void journey for multiple years. what better way to get yer answers than to speak to yerself through yer own mind... wah, that sounds fuckin' coconuts but I stand by it.

essentially, this is just a combo of commandin' yer subconscious and scriptin', that's not hard at all. and who said ya gotta handwrite it? ya can type it out on yer phone or even yer computer if ya want, do whatever feels good and allows ya to write out yer guts and frustration. after that, ya can relax and see what happens next. that's all in this post! thanks for readin' and I hope ya get the answers ya seek! until next time!~

p.s. this ain't a challenge, it's just another way to get to know what you need to do to accomplish your dreams as the individual creator of yer reality. you'll know when yer answers come. hell, might even come to ya in the middle of the night or even in a random movie in the form of a quote that is far too relatable to yer situation ya decided to sit down and watch one day. kinda like what happened with me... hehe.

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track A13

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: POTHARU

Characters: Toi, Akuta, Nagi, Raito, Yodaka

Summary: The protagonist is invited by Akuta and Raito to the Friday Film viewing, along with Nagi and Toi. Sympathizing with the shy Nagi, Toi decides to join for his sake. 

Thank you aca @463ce6, jes @arcanecrayonn myun @/myuntachis and Niri for helping me with proofing!

Location: HAMA House - Personal Room

Akuta: The Friday Film Show is about to S.T.A.R.T! 

Momiji: I knew it’d be you, Akuta-kun. But, Raito-san as well? You’re an odd pair to spot together. 

Raito: It’s true. One night, I’d found him face down in the hallway because he was too hungry, so I took him out to have some late-night ramen. He’s been attached to my hip ever since. 

Akuta: A debt of gratitude that tastes like firm noodles, thick soup, extra oil and topped with a ramen egg, along with a side of a chunky chashu bowl! 

Momiji: Ahaha, I’m glad to see that the fellow leaders are getting along with each other.

Raito: Indeed. I find him adorable in a different way than I do Nayuki. 

Momiji: (Akuta-kun does kind of make you want to treat him like a younger brother… Meanwhile Nayuki is like a cat that refuses to fall for any bait Raito-san might throw his way…)

Akuta: C’mon, come ON!! Let’s get a move on already! We gotta go ‘round the other rooms too!

Raito: You’re right, we’re short on time. The film playing tonight is “Spirited Away to the Valley in the Sky.” It’s Studio Ghizli’s masterpiece*, so Akuta is full of energy.

Akuta: Teach and… uh, Nagi-san, and Toi-san? You two want in?

Nagi and Toi: Oh, um… 

Raito: This would be a good opportunity to deepen our bonds. 

Akuta: Heck yeah! We can be buddies who finish each other’s popcorn! Come watch with us~

Momiji: Ahaha! We got it already, we’ll see you there. 

Akuta: ASAP, ‘kay!? Aight! Onwards to the next room!

Raito: Akuta, we just came from that direction.

*Raito and Akuta leave*

Momiji: …And that’s that. Since we’ve settled on where to go for the study trip, we should head down for the film viewing. 

Toi: Ah, yes… There’s gonna be a lot of people, huh…?

Momiji: Probably, but… What’s wrong? You look restless all of a sudden. You were bouncing around during the party last time though.

Toi: T-That’s because I was in the presence of Chii-sama! I might have… maybe lost my mind over the excitement…

Momij: (So he was in something of a trance back then… and this is what Toi-kun is usually like?)

Toi: T-There’s gonna be so many people I don’t know… I can’t help but feel nervous… Oh, if only Ani-sama was here with me… 

Momiji: How about you, Nagi-kun?

 

Nagi: I… 

Momiji: Yeah?

Nagi: I don’t think I’m a good match for party people… I might just end up getting swept away in the middle of it… 

Momiji: Party people?

Nagi: Oh… She’s not even aware she’s one of them… I stand in the presence of a true partygoer… 

Momiji: Aw, c’mon, we're just watching a movie together. Don’t worry, it’s not that scary, you’ll be alright.  

Nagi: Wow, you’re just like Naumica when she was comforting the Eihm*. 

Toi: Nagi-san, I’m begging you!

Toi: Would you please come with us…? I think I might just die from loneliness if no one from the Night Team is there… 

Nagi: ….. 

Momiji: Um, you don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to. It was a sudden invite after all.

Nagi: …It’s okay. I feel reassured if Toi is going too. 

Toi: I’m so glad you understand… I feel a lot better already~

Momiji: (I… can’t really tell if Toi-kun is actually shy or not, but it looks like he could empathize with Nagi-kun.)

Nagi: So let’s go, together. 

Toi: Yay! 

Location: HAMA House - Living Room

Ten: Valley in the Sky sure is a blast to the past~ I was totally attached to the protagonist when I was a kid. 

Nanaki: Watching your loved one float down from the sky… It’s really romantic. 

Kinari: …… 

Kiroku: Azekawa-san… Have you… not watched… Spirited Away… to the Valley… in the Sky… before…? 

Kinari: I have a memory of watching it. Once. At a movie theater. 

Ushio: Huh, at a theater? How long ago was that? 

Yachiyo: Oh, they tend to re-screen movies at the theaters to commemorate its anniversary right~ I’d love to see it on the big screen too~ 

Momiji: Ooh, it’s nice to see everyone all together here! And there’s even pizza! 

Renga: Chief, your seat’s over there. Nagi and Toi, on this side. Feel free to dig in.

Toi: Oh, um… Thank you very much… Nagi-san, sit next to me, over here! 

Nagi: Okay. Thank you too, Renga. 

Renga: Well, like I said before… There’s no need to be so formal with us. 

Nagi: …Yeah. 

Muneuji: Looks like we made it in time. 

Akuta: OH FUDGE!! Don’t start without us~!

Momiji: Welcome back, you two. Right, Akuta-kun, about the cake… 

Akuta: Oh, yeah! I was rushin’ all over the place so I forgot all about it. I gotta apologize to Nagi-san directly… 

Nagi: …I was never upset about the cake. I heard you went out of your way to get me another one, so I feel bad about that… 

Akuta: Huhh? What’re YOU feeling bad for, Nagi-san? I don’t get it but, you’re a funny guy! 

Akuta: I mean it f’real though, sorry ‘bout eating your slice.

Akuta: I couldn’t stop myself even after I figured it was yours… My self-control was NOT at the wheel. 

Nagi: It’s all good. I think that was very human of you, don’t worry. 

Momiji: Isn’t that great, Akuta-kun?

Akuta: Yeah! Thanks a bunch Nagi-san! 

Toi: Um… Are Kafka-san and the others not joining us? 

Sakujiro: He said that he would return when the words of destruction are chanted: “Power That Ruins,” in short, POTHARU*.

Momiji: So, at the very last minute huh… 

Akuta: Yo, it’s starting!! Also this pizza’s crazy good! 

Ten: I was a fan of “When My Neighbor Dorodoro Was There” too~ Couldn’t help but empathize with Ganta as a kid, y’know?

Tao: Woah, knew I’d smelled something delicious. Turns out you guys are having a Studio Ghizli party, huh? Mind if I join?

Yachiyo: Of course~ I’m ordering a second round of pizza right now~

Momiji: (Looks like everyone’s having fun… Despite coming from all walks of life, we’re all like one big family here.)

Nagi: ……

Toi: …… 

Momiji: (Those two look like they still need some time to break the ice… But I’m sure it’ll be okay.)

Momiji: (I hope they can all get along with each other soon…)

Nagi: …… 

Toi: Uh-Uhm…. I’ll take a quick bathroom break… 

Location: HAMA House - 3rd floor balcony

Toi: Phew~ That was nerve-wracking… 

Toi: (I’d like to get along with them but… I just can’t seem to find the courage without Ani-sama by my side…)

Toi: Still… I have to try my best. 

Netaro: Mm.

Toi: Oh, Netaro-san… You look tired.

Netaro: I was holed up in our room cooking up the invention of the century, the “Five Senses times One Billion Sticker” all day, and before I knew it, it was already this late… 

Netaro: Which reminds me, I found this strange note attached to the door. 

Toi: Ah, I’m sure that’s a memo left by Akuta-kun. It must be from when he was going around and inviting people to the film viewing. 

Netaro: Hmm~ If that is the case, why are you loitering about up here, mumbling all on your lonesome?

Toi: That’s, um… It’s fun being with everyone, but I'm still nervous around them… 

Netaro: Nerves, I see~

Toi: I hope I can feel more relaxed by the time we get to POTHARU… 

Netaro: POTHARU?

Toi: Huh? You don’t know POTHARU?

Netaro: Never heard of it. Nor read of it. Is it some ancient French term? Or perhaps, it’s a distant relative of paratha*?

Toi: Don’t tell me, you’ve never watched any Studio Ghizli films?

Netaro: Non.

Toi: No way! I didn’t think there was anyone in JPN who hasn’t watched them yet!

Netaro: Wow, is that so! Perhaps I am something of a rarity? Huzzah!

Toi: Wha… Is that something to be happy about?

Netaro: Once you watch it, you can never go back! Therefore I have the advantage when it comes to non-reversibility! 

Toi: Pft-ahaha! You have a point! But Ani-sama and I are both big fans of Studio Ghizli’s works, so I really recommend watching it! 

Toi: Ah, but we’re already halfway through the film now… 

Toi: Um! If you’d like, I can explain the first half of the plot for you! We just have to sit together. 

Netaro: Hm~ Movies and dramas are an excellent look into the human thought process, so I enjoy them very much~

Netaro: Yes, I shall join you.

Toi: Then let’s head down to the living room together! 

Location: HAMA House - Living Room

Yodaka: …I hurried back because I was told to make it in time for POTHARU, but… 

Akuta: Now!! Time to POTHARU–!!

Muneuji: Isotake, I think you’re being too loud. 

Renga: Can’t help but get excited at this scene huh? I get it. I remember when I first watched it too, at an outdoor screening… 

Kiroku: The pizza… is tasty… 

Momiji: Eating pizza when watching a movie just hits different huh?

Yodaka: …It feels like a party in full swing. It’s always wonderful to witness such harmonious revelry. However… 

Nagi: …… 

Yodaka: (At the heart of the living room stands Nagi, lost and alone…)

Yodaka: (It’s as though I’m looking at a Milet* painting… Nagi’s shadow is so faint that he blends in with his surroundings without anyone noticing…)

Akuta: Aw, man! Not a commercial right when it was getting good!

Nanaki: Even though I know how it ends, I still get all anxious.

Akuta: Hey guys, let’s all hold hands when it’s time to POTHARU! It’ll be so hype!!

Ushio: Hell no.

Ten: I’m cool with it~

Nagi: …… 

*Nagi leaves*

Yodaka: …… 

Yodaka: Fufu… I suppose it can’t be helped. That part of you is lovable as well. 

Yodaka: (Regardless, I can’t help but be concerned. You will have to forgive my meddling, Nagi.)

Momiji: I wonder if I could get away with eating some potato chips this late at night…

Yodaka: Chief, could I speak with you? 

Notes:

Studio Ghizli is a parody of Studio Ghibli, and “Spirited Away to the Valley in the Sky” is a mash-up of 3 movies - Spirited Away, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, and Laputa: Castle in the Sky. Meanwhile “When My Neighbor Dorodoro Was There” is a mash-up of My Neighbor Totoro and When Marnie Was There. 

The title originally spells “PANYOSU” which is a play on the spell BARUSU used in Laputa Castle in the sky. It’s a spell that causes the self-destruction of the castle at the climax of the movie.

Sakujiro explains that it is the shortened form of "Power, Scepter, Throttle" (PA-wa, NYO-i, SU-rottoru) which I decided to localize to “Power That Ruins” (POTHARU), which I found out later can mean “you will leave/die” in Telugu.

Similarly, Netaro asks if PANYOSU is a relative of Nachos, which I localized to paratha (an indian flatbread) to match POTHARU.

Nagi compares the player to Nausicaa, the heroine from Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, when she was comforting the baby Ohm that is hurt and scared near the end of the movie.

The painter Yodaka thinks of, Milet, is most likely a play on Claude Monet, an impressionist artist. Yodaka compares Nagi to Monet’s paintings, to speak of how there’s only a faint ‘impression’ of Nagi and that it doesn’t feel reflective of reality. 

<- Previous | Next ->

Masterlist