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barnacles34 · 3 days ago

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Professional Hazard (And Blue Tongues)

Karina x Male Reader

9k words

18+ smut

'I expected you to have...'

'Grey hair? Glasses thick as tank armor?' You lean back. 'Let me guess—ancient and decrepit?'

'Something like that.' She toys with her iced americano, ice cubes clinking.

'Get that more than you'd think.'

'Can't imagine why.'

'Sure you can't.'

She straightens in her chair. 'Well? Are you going to ask your questions or what?'

'Did you have something specific in mind?'

'I thought you'd at least come prepared.' The sharp edge in her voice softens, adapting. 'After that email you sent.'

'I am prepared.'

'Do you know who I am?'

'I know you're Karina. I know you agreed to fund my little Italian vacation.' You keep your voice flat, unimpressed.

She laughs, short and sharp. 'They really sent someone who knows nothing.'

'Biographers aren't exactly growing on trees these days. Most of them are busy dying off.' [1]

'That's comforting.'

'About as comforting as your enthusiastic response to my email.'

'Ah.' She smirks. 'My monument to hubris?'

'Your words, not mine.'

'Christ, you're not exactly sunshine and roses, are you?'

'If only you knew.'

'Oh, I think I do.' She leans forward. 'People like me—we're your bread and butter. Desperate enough to take the abuse just to get that book written.'

'Quick study.'

'Experience, darling.' She draws out the last word like stretched taffy.

'If immortality's what you're after, we're off to a rocky start.'

'Not even grateful for the Italian holiday?'

You meet her eyes. 'Bribery's nothing new. Don't expect it to polish your image.'

'Tough nut to crack, aren't you?'

'I have what I need.'

'Meaning?'

'Let me put this delicately: my last subject bought me a year at New York's finest.' [2]

'Fantastic.' She rattles her ice cubes harder.

'You know what I think?' She sets down her drink with deliberate care.

'Enlighten me.'

'I think you enjoy this. The whole "unimpressed biographer" act.'

You pull out your notebook, unhurried. 'That'd make a great chapter one. "Local girl psychoanalyzes writer, lives to regret it."'

'There it is again.' Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. 'Tell me, do your subjects usually last long enough for chapter two?'

'The interesting ones do.'

'And the boring ones?'

You flip open to a blank page. 'They get a lovely rejection letter.'

'Which I didn't.'

'Yet.'

She leans back, studying you. The late afternoon sun catches the edge of her glass, throwing prismatic shapes across the table. 'You really don't care that I could walk away right now.'

'The door's right there.' You click your pen. 'But we both know you won't.'

'Because?'

'Because you didn't spend three months negotiating with my publisher just to storm off over hurt feelings.'

'Maybe I just like wasting time.'

'Maybe.' You meet her gaze. 'But people who like wasting time don't usually have a dozen designer brand sponsorships.'

Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or respect. 'So you did do your homework.'

'I always do.' You position your pen over the blank page. 'Now, shall we begin with the real questions?'

'Shoot.' She shifts in her chair, the late afternoon sun warming the cafe corner we've claimed.

'Tell me about your sister.'

Her eyebrows lift slightly. 'Not starting with the obvious questions?'

'Would you prefer those?'

'No.' She smiles, genuine this time. 'She's a nurse. Like our mom.'

'Close?'

'Very. She's the only person who still calls me Jimin.' She stirs her americano. 'Probably the only person who can get away with it, too.'

'Why's that?'

'Because she knew me when I was just the quiet kid who'd rather read in corners than talk to anyone. Before all of...' She waves her hand vaguely. 'This.'

'Still prefer corners?'

'Sometimes.' She considers the question. 'There's this tiny bookstore in Seongnam. When I go home, I still visit. They have this perfect spot by the window.'

'What do you read?'

'Whatever catches my eye. Last week it was about sharks.'

You raise an eyebrow. 'Sharks?'

'Don't look so surprised.' She laughs. 'They're fascinating. Everyone thinks they know them, but they don't, not really.'

'Speaking from experience?'

She takes a long sip of her drink instead of answering.

'You don't have to do that, you know.' You set your pen down.

'Do what?'

'Deflect. Turn everything into a metaphor.'

She meets your eyes for a long moment. 'Force of habit.'

'Bad one.'

'Says the person who's been matching my deflections word for word.' A half-smile plays at her lips. 'We're quite the pair, aren't we?'

'Difference is, I'm paid to be difficult.'

'And I was raised to be.' The words slip out before she can catch them. Her fingers tighten around her glass.

You wait.

'You're good at this,' she says quietly.

'At what?'

'Making silence comfortable.' She looks out the window. 'Most people try to fill it.'

'Most people aren't trying to understand.'

She turns back to you, something shifting in her expression. 'Is that what you're trying to do? Understand?'

'Would that be so terrible?'

'No,' she says.

'Progress.' You pick up your pen again. 'Though I've just realized something deeply troubling.'

'What's that?'

'Your americano's been empty for ten minutes, and you're still pretending to drink it.'

She glances at her glass, caught. 'Method acting.'

'Ah yes, the classic "I'm too invested in this conversation to pause for a refill" performance.' You wave to catch the barista's eye. 'Oscar-worthy.'

'Says the person who hasn't touched their...' She leans forward to peek at your cup. 'What even is that?'

'Green tea.'

'Pretentious.'

'Says the person who ordered an iced americano in winter.'

'It's barely spring.'

'Case in point.'

The barista arrives with fresh drinks. Karina raises an eyebrow at your cup. 'Still green tea?'

'I'm consistent.'

'Boring.'

'Strategic.' You take a deliberate sip. 'Can't blame caffeine jitters for whatever honesty slips out.'

'Sneaky.'

'Professional.'

'Same thing.' She stirs her new drink, ice cubes clinking. 'So what's next in your strategic interrogation?'

'Thought we agreed to drop the deflection thing.'

'Old habits. Ten seconds at a time.'

'That's oddly specific.'

'It's how I learned to swim.' At your questioning look, she continues, 'Ten seconds of courage. Then you can panic all you want.'

'Does that work?'

'Got me here, didn't it?' She gestures between you two. 'Letting a stranger with a notebook and suspiciously consistent beverage choices pick apart my life.'

'You could always run.'

'To where? Croatia?' She laughs at your surprised expression. 'What? I have dreams.'

'Of Croatia specifically?'

'Of anywhere that doesn't know my name.'

'That's rather poetic for someone who just called me pretentious.'

'I contain multitudes.' She mock-bows in her seat.

'Walt Whitman now?'

'See? You're not the only one who can be insufferably well-read.'

You make a show of writing something down.

You flip to a fresh page. 'Tell me about Croatia.'

'Nothing to tell. Just a place.'

'There are plenty of places that don't know your name. Why that one?'

She traces the rim of her glass again, a habit you've started to recognize as her thinking gesture. 'Have you ever seen those old coastal towns? The ones with narrow streets and buildings that look like they're having conversations with each other?'

'Been to a few.'

'I want to get lost in one.' She looks up. 'Properly lost. No GPS, no itinerary. Just... walking until my feet decide to stop.'

'Most people want to be found.'

'Most people haven't spent years being findable.' The sharpness in her voice surprises both of you. She softens it with a smile. 'Sorry. That sounded more dramatic than intended.'

'Don't apologize. It's the first time you've stopped performing since we sat down.'

'I haven't been—' She stops. Laughs. 'Okay. Point taken.'

'Progress. Again.'

'You're keeping score?'

'Always.' You tap your notebook. 'It's kind of the whole point.'

'And how am I doing?'

'In being honest or deflecting?'

'Both.'

'You're averaging about fifty-fifty.'

'Generous scoring.'

'Strategic encouragement.'

'You're good at that.' She stretches slightly. 'Making people think they're in control of the conversation.'

'Are you not?'

'Please. We both know you've been steering this ship since you sat down.' She pauses. 'Though I will say, you're the first interviewer who hasn't asked about my routine yet.'

'Your routine?'

'You know. "What time do you wake up? What's your skincare regimen? How many hours do you practice?" That whole song and dance.'

'Would you like me to ask?'

'God no.' She grins. 'But I'm curious why you haven't.'

'Because routines are what people do. I'm more interested in who they are.'

'And who am I?'

'Still figuring that out. But I know you crack your knuckles when you're nervous.'

She stops mid-crack, caught. 'Observant.'

'Professional hazard.' You lean forward. 'Tell me something real. Not about routines or schedules or practices.'

'Like what?'

'Like what you think about at three AM when you can't sleep.'

She's quiet for a long moment. 'Sometimes I forget what my natural speaking voice sounds like.'

'What do you mean?'

'You spend so many years modulating everything—your voice, your laugh, your reactions—until one day...' She shrugs. 'One day you catch yourself using your "public" voice to order coffee at 3 AM in an empty convenience store, and you realize you can't remember what you used to sound like.'

'And that bothers you.'

'Wouldn't it bother you? Losing something that fundamental without even noticing it was gone?'

'Is that why we're here? Trying to find it again?'

'Maybe.' She smiles, but it's different now. Unpolished. 'Or maybe I'm just tired of having "public" and "private" versions of everything.'

'Including your voice.'

'Including my entire existence.'

'Right.' You snap your notebook shut. 'We're getting gelato.'

—

[1] The suspicious rate at which biographers are "dying off" has become something of an industry joke. Three prominent biographers mysteriously retired after attempting to write about a certain K-pop company's CEO. Totally not suspicious.

[2] The Plaza Hotel, to be specific. Said subject was a tech billionaire whose autobiography mysteriously never made it to print. The hotel suite, however, maintains legendary status among New York's housekeeping staff for its impressive collection of empty green tea bottles and rejection letters.

—

She blinks. 'What?'

'We're walking.' You stand, gathering your things. 'Unless you have somewhere to be?'

'Are you actually asking, or is this another strategic move?'

'Both. Neither. Whatever. Does it matter if there's gelato involved?'

A genuine laugh escapes her. 'Fair point.'

The early evening air hits your faces as you step outside. She pulls on a cap—more habit than disguise.

'Left or right?' you ask.

'You're the one who lives here.'

'Technically, I've been here three days.'

'And you already know where to get gelato?'

'First thing I do in any city. Professional secret.'

'Ah yes, the biographer's handbook. Chapter One: locate ice cream immediately.'

'Chapter Two: never reveal your sources.' You turn left. 'Unless they're wearing a questionably large cap and hiding from their own voice.'

'Low blow.' But she's grinning. 'Also, my cap is perfectly sized.'

'For what? Smuggling library books?'

'That's... oddly specific.'

'Says the person who just quoted Walt Whitman in a cafe.'

You find the gelato place tucked between a bookstore and a vintage shop. The owner, an elderly Italian woman, lights up at your approach.

'Due?' she asks.

'Sì,' you reply, then turn to Karina. 'What's your poison?'

She studies the flavors intently. 'What's the most unusual one?'

'Professional or personal answer?'

'There's a difference?'

'Professional would be something elegant. Personal...' You point to a vivid blue flavor. 'That one tastes like your childhood imaginary friend made a pact with a Smurf.'

She doesn't hesitate. 'Two scoops of that, please.'

'Really?'

'What?' She raises an eyebrow. 'Scared of a little blue tongue?'

'More scared of what my editor will say when the interview notes are stained cerulean.'

Ten minutes later, you're both leaning against a stone wall, gelato dripping in the warm evening air. Her tongue is, indeed, impressively blue.

'Yah! Why are you taking a picture?”

'Your tongue. I need photographic evidence for my editor.'

She complains, ‘self-respecting people would’ve walked a long time ago.’

‘And let me guess-’

‘Correct. Take a picture if you want.’

'Pulitzer worthy.' You take another bite of your considerably more dignified pistachio. 'So tell me about the sharks.'

'You're still on that?'

'You brought up marine biology in a cafe and then mysteriously changed the subject. I'm invested now.'

'There's nothing mysterious about it.' She licks a drop of blue from her knuckle. 'I just think they're neat.'

'That's the worst deflection yet.'

'Fine.' She pushes off the wall, starting to walk. 'When I was younger, I used to think they were lonely.'

You fall into step beside her. 'Sharks?'

'Mm. Always swimming, never stopping. Everyone afraid of them.' She shrugs. 'Stupid kid logic.'

'And now?'

'Now I think they're just... misunderstood.' She grins. 'That was terrible, wasn't it? Like a bad movie line.'

'Terrible. But honest.'

'You and your honesty fetish.'

'Says the person who just admitted to emotionally relating to sharks.'

She snorts, nearly dropping her cone. 'When you put it that way—'

'Oh, I'm definitely putting it that way. It's going in the book.'

'Absolutely not.'

'Chapter title: "The Shark Whisperer”. I can see it already'

She tries to hip-check you, but you dodge, protecting your gelato. 'I'm revoking your creative license.'

'Too late. The mental image of baby Jimin crying over shark documentaries is seared into my brain.'

'I did not cry over—' She stops. 'Okay, maybe once. But it was a very sad documentary.' [1]

The sun is setting now, painting the cobblestones gold. You pass a street musician playing something soft and acoustic.

'Your sister know about the sharks?'

'Of course. She bought me the books.' Her smile turns fond. 'Still does, actually. Sends them to me randomly.'

'Recent ones?'

'Last week.' She finishes her cone. 'She has... interesting timing.'

'Interesting timing?'

'Mm.' She wipes her hands on a napkin. 'Right after I told her about the interview. She sent me one about great whites. Said something about facing fears.'

'Subtle.'

'About as subtle as your interview techniques.' She eyes your notebook, still tucked away. 'Not writing anymore?'

'Memory's better when I'm walking.' You tap your temple. 'Also, harder to write about blue tongues while walking.'

'Still blue?'

'Devastatingly so.'

She sticks her tongue out at a passing window, checking her reflection. 'Oh god, it's worse than I thought.'

'Crisis?'

'Please. I once had to perform with my hair half-green because of a dye mishap. This?' She gestures to her mouth. 'This is nothing.'

'Half-green?'

'Not going in the book.'

'Already mentally drafting the chapter.'

She groans. 'I'm starting to regret this whole walking thing.'

'Because of the blackmail material or the exercise?'

'Both. Neither.' She pauses by a small fountain. 'It's just... nice.'

'Nice?'

'Yeah.' She sits on the fountain's edge. 'No schedule. No plan. Just... walking and talking and eating questionably colored gelato with a stranger who probably thinks I'm having a quarter-life crisis.'

'Are you?'

'Having a crisis or eating gelato?'

'Now who's deflecting?'

And she pauses again, caught.

She dips her fingers in the fountain water, watching the ripples. 'Maybe I just wanted one normal evening. One conversation that wasn't prepackaged and pre-approved.'

'Mission accomplished, I'd say. Your tongue is literally blue.'

That startles a laugh out of her. 'You're never letting that go, are you?'

'It's going to be a running metaphor throughout the book. Deep, meaningful parallels between blue gelato and the human condition.'

'You're terrible at your job.'

'I'm excellent at my job. I got you to walk around Rome with blue teeth.'

'Is that the measure of success?'

'For this chapter? Absolutely.'

The street lamps are starting to flicker on, and the air has that peculiar Roman evening warmth that begs for a drink.

'Know any good bars?' she asks, as if reading your mind.

'Thought you'd never ask[2]. Fair warning though—my Italian's terrible.'

'Better or worse than your interview skills?'

'Much worse. But I can order Aperol Spritz in seventeen different ways.'

'Useful life skill.'

'More useful than relating to sharks.'

She shoves your shoulder lightly. 'One more shark joke and I'm leaving.'

'No, you're not.'

'No, I'm not.' She grins. 'Lead the way, worst Italian speaker.'

You find a tiny place tucked away from the main streets. The kind tourists don't know about, with mismatched chairs and a bartender who looks old enough to have served Caesar himself.

'Due aperol spritz, per favore.' You ask.

The bartender raises an eyebrow. 'Americano? Il tuo italiano è buono!' (your Italian was… apparently… good.)

'Peggio,' you say. 'Giornalista'

(‘Worse. Journalist.’)

He laughs, already reaching for glasses. Karina slides onto a barstool, looking around with genuine curiosity.

‘He seems pretty impressed by your Italian.’

‘Oh trust me—he wasn’t. He just wanted to be nice. That’s all. The inflections are quite easy to catch.’

‘Alright, whatever you say. Giornalista—.'

You grin at her cute prod.

'How'd you find this place?' She asks; needless to say, she likes it here.

'Got lost my first night here––five years ago. It was either come in or keep pretending I knew where my hotel was.'

'And?'

'Woke up knowing exactly where my hotel was. And how to say "I'm sorry" in Italian.'

She laughs. 'That bad?'

'Let's just say there's a reason I stick to green tea now.'

The drinks arrive, vivid orange against the dark wood of the bar.

'To blue tongues,' you raise your glass.

'And bad Italian,' she clinks hers against it.

—

[1] The documentary in question was "Blue Planet II." Her sister still has the receipt for three boxes of tissues and a plush shark from the aquarium gift shop. The plush shark now sits in her studio, wearing a tiny version of her debut outfit. Her company has tried to mass-produce it twice. She's vetoed it both times.

[2] You were never this humble about your Italian until you talked to an Italian nonna. "Qui giace la dignità di un giornalista" (Here lies a journalist's dignity).

—

'Speaking of bad decisions—'

'We weren't.'

'We are now. Tell me about the green hair incident.'

'Absolutely not.' She takes another sip of her spritz. 'Some secrets I'm taking to my grave.'

'Come on. Half-green hair? There's got to be a story there.'

'There is. A great one. You're still not hearing it.'

'I'll trade you.'

'Oh?' She turns on her stool to face you fully. 'What could you possibly have that's worth my green hair story?'

'Remember when I said I learned to say sorry in Italian?'

'The plot thickens.'

'Let's just say it involved a fountain, three angry nuns, and a very patient carabinieri.'

She nearly chokes on her drink. 'You're making that up.'

'Want to bet your green hair story on it?'

'You know what?' She signals the bartender for another round. 'Fine. But if you're lying, you're buying drinks for the rest of the night.'

'Deal.'

'And no taking notes.'

'Now that's just cruel.'

'Professional hazard,' she mimics your earlier tone, then grins. 'Okay, storyteller. Dazzle me.'

The bartender sets down fresh drinks, and you lean in conspiratorially. 'So picture this: my first night in Rome, about five years ago...'

'Wait.' She holds up a hand. 'We need to establish stakes. If this story doesn't involve all three elements—fountain, nuns, and police—you're not only buying drinks, you're telling me where you actually learned to say sorry in Italian.'

'Counter-offer. If my story checks out, I get the green hair story plus whatever happened at that music show in Busan.'

Her eyes narrow. 'What music show in Busan?'

'The one you just reacted to.'

'That's... that's actually impressive.'

'Five years of professional nosiness at work. Deal?'

She clinks her glass against yours. 'Deal. Now stop stalling.'

'Right. So. Five years ago. I'd just finished an interview with this ancient countess at the bar. I mean, it’s the bar. Who else gets to interview a countess at a bar? That’s like crazy Bourdain-level shit right there.’

She nods along. 'Of course you did.'

'Anyway, she invited me to this wine cellar...'

'Oh no.'

'Oh yes. And mind you, I was already quite drunk. And she was very, very insistent about hospitality...'

Twenty minutes and much laughter later, you finish: '...and that's why you should never trust Google Translate to help you apologize to Italian law enforcement.'

She's wiping tears from her eyes. 'The part with the cat—'

'Hand to god. Still have the scars.'

'Okay.' She catches her breath. 'Okay, you win. That was worth it.'

'Time to pay up. Green hair. Spill.'

'Can I have one more drink first?'

'For courage?'

'So I can blame it on the drink.' She waves at the bartender. 'I still can't believe you showed those nuns your interview notes to prove you weren't a street performer.'

'Desperate times.'

'Speaking of desperate...' She takes a fortifying sip of her fresh spritz. 'Ever tried to fix green hair with grape juice?'

'No.'

'Don't.'

'There has to be more to this story than grape juice.'

'Oh, there's so much more.' She settles into her seat. 'Picture this: it's two hours before a live broadcast. I'm sitting in the makeup chair, feeling pretty good about life. You know, like that particular moment where your face just… shines. Then my stylist walks in, takes one look at my hair, and just... screams.'

'Screams?'

'Full horror movie scream. Turns out the hair dye we used was... let's say "not exactly approved by management."'

'Let me guess. DIY job?'

'Worse. My sister's friend's cousin who "totally went to beauty school."'

'Oh no.' You snort, taking a hefty drink of the remaining spritz.

'Oh yes. So there I am, one side of my head this bizarre shade of swamp-thing green, and everyone's running around like it's the end of the world.'

'Which is when someone suggested grape juice?'

'Actually, that was my idea.' She grimaces. 'I'd read somewhere that grape juice could neutralize green tones. What they failed to mention was that this works for swimming pools, not hair.' [1]

'So what happened?'

'Picture a very expensive wig, three cans of dry shampoo, and me trying to explain to the camera director why I couldn't turn my head to the left.'

'Did it work?'

'Define "work."' She takes another sip. 'If by "work" you mean "did I make it through the broadcast without anyone seeing the grape-juice-tinged disaster," then yes. If by "work" you mean "did I maintain any dignity," then absolutely not.'

'The fans never found out?'

'Oh, they did. Someone leaked a backstage photo three months later.' She grins. 'By then I'd managed to fix it. Mostly.'

'Mostly?'

'My sister still has a strand of green hair she saved. Threatens to post it whenever I don't answer her calls.'

'Effective.'

'Terrifying.' She raises her glass. 'Your turn again. What's the worst interview you've ever done?'

'Besides this one?'

She kicks your chair. 'I'm delightful and you know it.'

'You're something, all right.'

Three drinks in, and the bar's emptied enough that her laugh echoes a little too loudly. She covers her mouth, but it's too late – the old bartender shoots them an amused look.

'Sorry,' she stage-whispers.

'For what? The laugh or the fact that it just shattered three ancient Roman wine glasses?'

'Shut up.' She kicks your chair again. 'I don't always laugh like that.'

'Let me guess – there's a public laugh and a private laugh?'

'There's a whole taxonomy.' She sits up straighter, counting on her fingers. 'Interview laugh, variety show laugh, fan meeting laugh, oh-that's-not-actually-funny-but-you're-my-sunbae laugh—'

'Please tell me you're joking.'

'I wish.' She slumps forward, head on her arms. 'I once had to attend a laughing seminar.'

'A what now?'

'A laughing seminar. Professional instruction on the art of the public giggle.' Her voice is muffled against her sleeve. 'There was a PowerPoint and everything.'

'You're making this up.'

She lifts her head. 'I spent three hours learning about laugh-adjacent breathing techniques while a woman named Mrs. Kim hit a triangle every time someone laughed "inappropriately."'

You stare at her. She stares back.

'That's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard,' you say finally.

'I know.' She dissolves into another too-loud laugh, this one definitely not seminar-approved. 'God, I can still hear that triangle.'

'Is that why you're here?'

'Getting drunk with a biographer in Rome? No, that's just poor life choices.'

'Speaking honest truths to a stranger?'

'Oh.' She straightens up, but there's still something loose in her smile. 'Maybe. Or maybe I just really needed to tell someone about Mrs. Kim and her triangle of terror.'

'Triangle of terror.' You shake your head. 'That's going in the book.'

'Along with the blue tongue and green hair? You're really painting a picture here.'

'It's called character development.'

'It's called character assassination.' She signals for water. 'What else are you putting in there?'

'Wouldn't you like to know.'

'Actually, yes. That's literally why I'm asking.'

'Fine.' You pretend to flip through your mental notes. 'Chapter One: Sharks and Empathy—'

'Oh my god.'

'Chapter Two: The Grape Juice Incident—'

'I'm starting to regret everything.'

'Chapter Three: Laugh Taxonomies by Aespa’s Karina—'

'I hate you.'

'Chapter Four: Why Romans Don't Trust Her With Fountains Anymore—'

'That was you! That was literally your story!'

'Was it? Everything's getting a bit fuzzy.' You tap your temple. 'Must be all that professional memory I was bragging about earlier.'

She throws an olive at you. The bartender clears his throat.

'Sorry,' you both say in unison, then look at each other and start laughing again.

'You know what's really funny?' she says, once you've both contained yourselves.

'Mrs. Kim's triangle?'

'Besides that.' She accepts the water from the bartender. 'This is probably the worst interview you've ever done.'

'Oh, definitely.'

'And yet...'

'And yet?'

'It's the most honest one I've given.' She pauses. 'God, that sounded way less cheesy in my head. Must be the spritz talking.'

'Blame it on the altitude.'

'We're at sea level.'

'Blame it on the sea level.'

'You're ridiculous.' She's grinning though. 'Is this how all your interviews go?'

'Usually there's less gelato. More gravitas.'

'Gravitas is overrated.'

'Says the woman who attended a laughing seminar.'

'Hey, I'll have you know my triangle-approved giggle is very dignified.'

'Prove it.'

She sits up straighter, arranges her features into something serene, and lets out the most artificial laugh you've ever heard. It's so pristine it's almost disturbing.

'That was horrifying.'

'That was three hours of professional training.'

'I'm concerned about your profession.'

'Join the club.' She relaxes back into her natural posture. 'We have meetings every Tuesday. Bring your own triangle.'

The bartender slides over the check with a knowing look. Last call came and went without either of you noticing.

'Well,' you say, reaching for your wallet. 'I suppose this is—'

'Wait.' She puts her hand on your arm. 'I have a confession.'

'Another one? The green hair wasn't enough?'

'I read your book.'

'Which one?'

'The one about the ballet dancer who quit to become a motorcycle mechanic.'

'Ah.' You sit back. 'And?'

'And I maybe, possibly, completely changed my mind about this whole interview when I read it.'

'Because?'

'Because...' She fidgets with her empty glass. 'You made her sound so... human.'

'As opposed to?'

'A story. A headline.' She traces a pattern on the bar top. 'Most people would've written about the scandal, the career she "threw away." But you wrote about how she names each motorcycle she fixes. How she still dances in her garage at midnight.'

'Ah. That.'

'That.' She looks up. 'Is that why you haven't asked me about any of it?'

'Any of what?'

'Don't play dumb. The headlines. The speculation. The—'

'The triangle-approved responses you've probably rehearsed?'

She laughs, caught. 'Something like that.'

'Here's the thing about headlines.' You start gathering your things. 'They're usually more interesting than the truth.'

'And what's the truth?'

'That sometimes people just want to eat blue gelato and tell embarrassing stories in a bar and talk a biographer’s ears off.'

She kicks your chair again, barely noticeable. 'Even if those stories end up in a book?'

'Especially then.' You stand, offering her jacket. 'Though I might need you to sign a waiver about the grape juice incident.'

'I knew it! You are using it!'

'Chapter title: "The Perils of Amateur Chemistry: A Cautionary Tale."'

She shrugs on her jacket, shaking her head. 'You're impossible. That AI flair was so intentional'

'Says the woman who legitimately attended a laughing seminar.'

'I'm never living that down, am I?'

'Not as long as I have a functioning memory and a publishing contract.'

The Roman night is warm as you both step out of the bar. She stumbles slightly on the cobblestones.

You offer a hand which she quickly grabs.

'Don't you dare put that in the book,' she warns.

'Put what? The graceful interpretation of contemporary dance you just performed?'

'These streets are rigged.' She steadies herself. 'Also, your hotel's this way.'

'How do you know where my hotel is?' You’re not exactly one to remember locations, probably the reason you were able to gain such a repository of ridiculous stories.

'Because it's my hotel.' She grins at your expression. 'What? You think you're the only one who does research?'

'I'm concerned about your stalking tendencies.'

'Says the person who somehow knew about the Busan incident.'

'Professional hazard.'

'You really need new catchphrases.'

The walk is quiet, comfortable. Rome at night feels like a different city—all golden lights and shadow play. A cat watches you pass from its perch on a window sill.

'Don't even think about it,' she says.

'About what?'

'Making some poetic comparison between me and that cat.'

'Please. I'm a much better writer than that.'

'Sure you are, shark whisperer.'

You reach the hotel entrance. She pauses.

'Well,' she says. 'This has been...'

'Professionally catastrophic?'

'I was going to say enlightening.'

'That too.'

The hotel lobby is all marble and soft lighting. Your footsteps echo slightly.

'I have a balcony,' she says suddenly. 'And a really pretentious coffee machine I can't figure out.'

'Is this a cry for help with appliances?'

'This is...' She fidgets with her room key. 'This is me not wanting the interview to end yet.'

'The interview ended somewhere between blue gelato and the triangle story.'

'Then what's this?'

‘Believe or not, some people just like having fun on their Italian vacation.’

‘Haha. Very funny.’

'This is...' You pretend to consider. 'Two people who might be friends if one of them wasn't writing a book about the other.'

'Complicated.'

'Professional hazard.'

'There's that phrase again.' She presses the elevator button. 'Come on. I'll teach you how to laugh properly.'

'With or without the triangle?'

She steps into the elevator. 'Depends on how good you are at making coffee.'

'Now who's the impossible one?'

The doors start to close. She holds them.

'Coming?'

You join her in the elevator. 'For the record, I'm excellent at coffee.'

'For the record,' she mimics your tone, 'that's going in the book.'

Her room is on the top floor, with a view that makes you understand why people write poetry about Rome.

'So,' she says, fighting with the coffee machine. 'This button makes it angry, and this one makes it hiss.'

'Move over, amateur.' You reach around her to press a combination of buttons. The machine purrs to life.

'Show off.' But she's smiling as she heads for the balcony. 'Bring your coffee wizardry out here when it's ready.'

The balcony is small, just enough room for two chairs and all of Rome spread out below. She's curled up in one chair, shoes off, looking more real than she has all day.

'Your professional opinion,' she says as you hand her a cup. 'Is this going to be a good book?'

'Depends.'

'On?'

'On whether you let me keep the shark metaphors.'

She laughs into her coffee. 'You're never letting that go.'

'Never.' You take the other chair. 'Though I might be willing to negotiate.'

'Terms?'

'Tell me something nobody knows. Something that won't make the book.'

She's quiet for a moment, looking out at the city lights. 'I sing in the shower.'

'Everybody knows that.'

'No, I mean...' She turns to face you. 'I sing the old songs. The ones I used to practice when I was just some kid in Bundang with a dream too big for my voice.'

'And?'

'And sometimes I still feel like her. That kid. Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Wow.' You let out a low whistle. 'That was incredibly profound.'

She groans, covering her face. 'I know. I'm sorry. That was straight out of a drama script.'

'I was thinking more indie movie. You know, the kind where people have deep conversations on balconies in Rome at—' you check your watch, '—one in the morning.'

'Oh god, we're living a cliché.'

'Complete with coffee and two chairs overlooking Rome.'

'Quick,' she straightens up, 'say something unprofound. Save us from ourselves.'

'My tongue is still kind of blue.'

She peeks at you over her coffee cup. 'Mine too.'

'Better?'

'Much better.' She slouches back in her chair. 'Though now I'm thinking about how this would look in your book. "Two idiots with blue tongues have existential crisis on expensive balcony."'

'Don't forget the part where one of them somehow charmed a coffee machine.'

'And the other one used to sing in her shower.'

'Still,' you correct. 'Present tense.'

'Still,' she admits. 'But if you put that in your book, I'll have to tell everyone about your fountain incident.'

'Mutually assured destruction. I like it.'

She yawns, then looks embarrassed. 'Sorry. It's not the company, it's—'

'The five Aperol Spritzes?'

'That. And the emotional toll of remembering Mrs. Kim's triangle.'

'Tragic backstory,' you nod solemnly. 'Very character-building.'

'Speaking of character-building...' She sets down her empty cup, turns to face you fully. 'This is usually the part in your books where something significant happens.'

'Is it?'

'Mm. Chapter twelve. Always a turning point.'

'You really did read my books.'

'I told you that already.' She's closer now, somehow. 'What I didn't mention was that I figured out your pattern.'

'My pattern?'

'The way you write moments like this.' Her voice is soft. 'When everything gets quiet, and the city's just background noise, and someone's about to do something...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say brave.'

'Brave is just inadvisable with better PR.'

She laughs, barely a whisper. 'You're deflecting again.'

'Professional—'

'If you say "hazard" right now,' she cuts in, 'I'm going to throw you off this balcony.'

'That would be...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say "terrible for my book sales."'

She's definitely closer now. 'Your book sales are about to be the least of your problems.'

'Because you're going to kiss me or throw me off the balcony?'

'I haven't decided yet.'

'Well,' you murmur, 'for what it's worth, one of those options would make a much better chapter twelve.'

She closes the distance between you, smiling against your lips. 'Professional hazard.'

You and Karina shared an instant spark that neither of you had experienced. Ever. The moment that first tease left your mouth, it was over.

—

[1] The sentiment of grape juice being able to eliminate green tones turned out to be completely unfounded. Despite this, wine sommeliers around the world have complained about Koreans with their distinct accent asking about grape juice’s ability to change colors.

—

The kiss tastes like coffee and Aperol and something sweet—probably the remnants of that ridiculous blue gelato. It's soft and quiet and perfect, the kind of moment that would sound made up in a book.

She pulls back slightly. 'Your editor's going to hate this.'

'Definitely.' You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Completely unprofessional.'

'Thoroughly inadvisable.'

'Absolutely perfect for chapter twelve.'

She kisses you again, and Rome keeps existing below, indifferent to your small moment of magic. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell chimes twice.

'You know,' she whispers, 'this is usually where you'd write something profound about the city of love.'

'That's Paris.'

'Now who's deflecting?'

'Still you. But I'm starting not to mind.'

She laughs, soft and real—definitely not triangle-approved—and rests her forehead against yours, your breaths intermixing, plenty of intimate eye contact. 'Is this going in the book?'

'What do you think?'

'I think...' Her fingers find yours. 'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'Even after I charmed your coffee machine? That's cold.'

She makes a face. 'You're really bringing up coffee machine prowess right after—'

'Right after you thoroughly compromised my journalistic integrity? Yes.'

'Your journalistic integrity was compromised the moment you let me eat blue gelato.'

'My journalistic integrity was compromised the moment I saw you.' You run your thumb across her knuckles.

Her eye contact wavers and her voice falters, ‘Gosh, you’re such a player.’

‘Flirting has never come so easily before.’ You whisper against her mouth.

'Oh really?'

'Obviously.'

'Which was?'

'Stare at that blue tongue some more.’'

She shoves you lightly. 'You're terrible.'

'And yet.'

'And yet.' She settles on your lap, the forehead to forehead more natural now. 'So what happens now?'

'Well, traditionally, this is where I'd write something about dawn breaking over the eternal city—'

'Please don't.'

'—with golden light catching on ancient stones—'

'I'm begging you to stop.'

'—as two souls find each other under the Roman sky—'

She claps a hand over your mouth. 'I will literally pay you to not finish that sentence.'

You kiss her palm before she pulls it away. 'Isn't that technically bribery?'

'Add it to the list. Right after "compromised journalistic integrity" and "suspicious coffee machine expertise."'

'Speaking of compromising situations...' You glance at your watch. 'It's almost three AM.'

'Worried about your reputation?'

'Worried about your triangle-approved schedule.'

'Bold of you to assume I ever sleep.' She stands, stretching. 'Want to order terrible room service and you can tell me about all the other journalists you've scandalized?'

'That's a very short list. Very enticing regardless.’

'Good.' She holds out her hand.

The night air has turned cooler, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere below. Her fingers trace the collar of your shirt, hesitant but deliberate.

'What happened to room service?' you murmur.

'It can wait.' Her eyes meet yours, playful but wanting. 'I'm conducting my own interview first.'

This kiss is different from the first. Slower, more certain. The city hums below, a distant lullaby of late-night cars and echoing footsteps. When she sighs into the kiss, it's the softest sound you've ever heard. When she falters against your forceful touches, it’s the softest you’ve ever felt a woman.

She pulls back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting against yours. Her heartbeat is quick under your palm.

'Better than chapter twelve?' she whispers.

You catch her lips again in answer, feeling her smile. The wind stirs her hair, sending strands brushing against your cheek. Everything smells like jasmine and coffee and her perfume—something subtle and expensive that you'll probably spend the rest of your life over-romanticizing.

Because that’s what Karina deserves.

Rome stretches out endless and ancient around you, but all you can focus on is how perfectly she fits against you, how real she feels away from cameras and crowds.

Your lips find hers in the dark, soft and certain now. Her fingers trail up your neck, threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There's an art to the way she kisses—deliberate yet desperate, like she's trying to memorize the moment. Your hands settle at her waist, and she makes a small sound that you know you'll remember forever.

Her lips part against yours, deepening the kiss until you're both breathless. The balcony railing presses into your back—when did that happen?—and her body is warm against yours, fitting perfectly in all the spaces between.

Her teeth graze your bottom lip, teasing. You respond by trailing kisses along her jaw, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. When you find that sensitive spot just below her ear, her sharp intake of breath makes you smile against her skin.

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. Her lips are slightly swollen, her careful composure beautifully undone––hair spread everywhere, but just so that she looks ethereal rather than messy. You brush your thumb across her lower lip, and she catches it with her teeth, playful even now.

‘Still planning to put this in chapter twelve?’ she whispers, breathless.

Your answer gets lost somewhere between her lips and… her lips.

Her laugh vibrates against your lips when you finally break apart. ‘We should probably—’

‘Go inside?’ Your lips find the curve of her neck again.

‘I was going to say breathe.’ But her head tilts back, giving you better access. Her pulse flutters under your kiss like a trapped bird. ‘Though inside works too.’

You pull back just enough to look at her. Hair mussed, eyes bright, that perfect composure completely undone. She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now, with the city lights catching in her eyes and her professional smile nowhere to be found.

‘What?’ she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

‘Just thinking.’

‘About?’

‘How this definitely isn't going in the book.’

Her smile turns mischievous. ‘No?’ Her fingers trace patterns on your chest. ‘Not even a little mention of how you completely forgot about journalistic integrity the moment I—’

‘Then chapter 12 would entirely consist of me betraying my profession in order to catch your lips with my teeth.’

‘Wow. You’re bad. Like, real bad.’

‘You have no idea.’

You cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her laugh. Her hands slide up your chest, around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. The world narrows to just this: her lips on yours, her body pressed against you, the soft sounds she makes when you run your fingers down her spine.

‘Inside,’ she murmurs against your mouth. ‘Before we really give Rome something to talk about.’

You let her lead you through the balcony doors, both of you stumbling slightly, unwilling to break contact. She tastes like promises now, like stories yet to be written. Her hands are everywhere—your hair, your chest, your face – like she's trying to read you by touch alone.

‘Wait,’ you manage, as her lips find that spot below your ear that makes thinking difficult. ‘What about—’

‘If you mention room service right now,’ she warns, ‘I'm going back to my original plan of throwing you off the balcony.’

‘I was going to say 'what about your triangle-approved image?'’

She pulls back, eyes dancing. ‘Oh, that?’ Her lips brush yours, teasing. ‘I think we thoroughly compromised that at the first meeting.’

"Professional hazard?"

"Shut up," she whispers, and kisses you again.

She sighs into your mouth, a soft, vulnerable sound that makes your heart stutter.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp, sending shivers down your spine. You walk her backward until she's pressed against the wall, her body arching into yours.

You trail kisses down her neck, learning her— the spot beneath her jaw that makes her gasp, the curve where neck meets shoulder that makes her fingers tighten in your hair. Her pulse races under your lips, a rapid drumbeat that matches your own. When you find a particularly sensitive spot, her sharp intake of breath is the sweetest sound you've ever heard.

She tugs you back up to her mouth, kissing you like she's trying to tell you something words can't capture. Her lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a rhythm that makes you dizzy. One of her legs hooks around yours, pulling you even closer, and you groan into her mouth.

Her hands frame your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as she kisses you deeper, slower, like she's trying to memorize every second. You respond in kind, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss—how beautiful she is like this, how real, how perfectly she fits against you.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. You rest your forehead against hers, sharing the same air, neither of you willing to move away.

"Still thinking about the book?" she murmurs, voice husky.

You answer by catching her lower lip between your teeth, gentle but playful, and feel her smile against your mouth.

Her smile against your mouth turns into a soft laugh. "I'll take that as a no."

‘Take it as whatever you want.’ Your lips find her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. ‘I stopped thinking about the book long ago.’

She hums contentedly, her fingers tracing patterns on the nape of your neck. ‘Good.’ Her other hand is still tangled in your shirt, keeping you close. ‘Because I have a confession.’

‘Another one?’

Instead of answering, she kisses you again, slow and deep. Her tongue traces your lower lip, and you respond by pressing her further into the wall, swallowing the small sound she makes. One of her legs is still hooked around yours, and when she shifts slightly, the new angle makes you both gasp.

‘That wasn't a confession,’ you murmur against her lips.

‘No?’ Her teeth graze your earlobe. ‘I thought I was being pretty clear.’

Your hands slide to her waist, steadying her. She's intoxicating like this, all careful control abandoned, her public persona nowhere to be found.

‘Jimin,’ you breathe, and feel her shiver at the sound of her real name.

Her response is to pull you closer, kissing you like she's trying to say everything without words. Her lips are soft but certain against yours, and you lose yourself in the feeling—the warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume.

The city continues its nighttime symphony outside, but in here, the only sound is your shared breathing and the soft, desperate noises she makes when you find that sensitive spot on her neck again.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. In the dim light, her gaze is soft, unguarded. Her thumb traces your lower lip.

‘What?’ you ask, voice rough.

‘I'm trying to decide something.’

"Whether to throw me off the balcony? Because I thought we moved past—"

She cuts you off with another kiss. Her hands cup your face, holding you there as she explores your mouth with a thoroughness that makes you dizzy. You respond by feeling her firm and perky ass.

‘No—,’ she moans when you break apart for air. ‘I'm trying to decide if this is real.’

Instead of answering, you trail kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. Her head falls back against the wall, giving you better access. When you reach her collarbone, she makes a sound that's half-sigh, half-moan.

‘Feels real enough,’ you murmur against her skin.

Her laugh is breathy, unsteady. ‘I meant—’ She gasps as you find a particularly sensitive spot. ‘I meant this. Us. This whole night.’

You lift your head to look at her. Her lips are swollen from kissing, her carefully styled hair a mess from your fingers. She's never looked more beautiful.

‘If you think I did all of this for the fun of it, you’re clearly missing something.’

‘A gear in the head?’

‘Definitely—’

‘Gosh, how do I allow this sort of petulance?’

‘Because it’s me.’

‘You’re a player.’

‘Only for you.’ You catch her lips, even more wanting—and she forfeits it all.

You pick her up, mussing up her perfect outfit, mussing up her perfect lips. And you finally throw her against the bed.

‘You’re really roughing up Prada’s global ambassador.’

‘And ambassador to a dozen other brands worth billions—couldn’t care less.’’

She smirks, and her arms open, waiting, pliant, obedient.

You rip off your buttoned shirt, tear off your pants; now, there’s truly no way of going back.

‘Wow. That scar is a lot larger than I imagined.’ She’s referring back to the scar that you received during that drunk haze of a night.

‘It was dark. Might’ve even been a lion.’

‘Mm. Heroic. Come here.’

Now, who could ever resist that?

You rip off her clothes, each layer even more decadent than the other. And then, she was there. bra barely containing her breasts, and a layer of dampness along her sexy panties.

‘That was expensive, by the way.’

‘I’ve got a payment plan on course.’

‘Mm. Enlighten me.’

You pull her panties to the side.

She’s dripping wet, nectar spooling right on her pink core. A glorious sheen that makes you stare far longer than you should’ve. She’s red-faced at this point, and her forearms cover most of her sight, and yet, she doesn’t move, doesn’t retreat.

The first lick you place, just a brush against her engorged clit, crumbles every self-regulated triangle-approved behavior she has. Two pants turn fifty, one lick crumbles everything. Her hips coax you in ways gymnasts can’t even replicate, and of course, you oblige.

Soft licks, teases around her outer lips, swollen from all the anticipation and arousal; tonguing at her inner lips, just at the crux of her clit, gets her screaming in ways her deep voice would never register; and above all, she’s orgasming, squirting, losing every pretense in favor of her built up lust.

‘Oh~fuck—’

Her fingers find purchase in your hair, and she softly pulls you in—rides your face like it was all that she ever desired: her eternal wish.

‘Ohmygod! Imcumming!’ Her voice turns mousy, and her pupils go back in pure pleasure, coupled with hip movements thought impossible: this was the greatest pleasure of her life.

You grab her chin, squeeze softly, her cheeks molding to your grasp, and you press a soft kiss right on her kiss-bruised lips. You let her taste herself on your tongue.

‘Good. Right?’

And she nods. A complete personality switch from the playfulness she displayed earlier. Delicate.

Her hands land on your boxers as she melted into your kiss. Once you felt her palm your cock, you groaned right in her ear. She starts softly, stroking. But her strokes grow more all-encompassing as you press harder into the kiss.

‘Fuck. You’re so good for me.’

She mewls back, on the gradient slide of unadulterated pleasure.

Softly, you release your shaft from the boxer. And you press your cock right on her core. Feeling the wet heat, the sticky nectar that pooled to a mindbreaking degree.

‘It goes without saying.’

‘That I’m head over heels for you?’

You grin, ‘Well, that too, but you’re hopeless.’

‘Maybe if we weren’t so compatible.’

You grab a breast, palming it, ‘Well that, that too, goes without saying.’

She smiles, so warmly, every trace of everything else melted off her face––the sort of smile you’d never forget, and the sort of smile you’d want to wake up to… forever.

Finally, you press into her, and her wet heat envelops you, enough to make you groan, enough to make her moan like there’s no greater pleasure––because really, there’s nothing else.

Her pussy clings onto you, a wet suction that is immeasurably soft and yet, a vacuum-seal-like tightness that gets you groaning after every thrust.

Her arms cling to you, and her eyebrows knit, her small face full of emotion—all of it processing how good you fuck her.

‘Oh god. Would it be bad that I want you to declare to the world that you own me?”

‘Chapter 12—’

She cuts you off, ‘Something along the lines of: “Chapter 12: Karina is my fuckslut”’

‘I don’t tolerate Karina disrespect.’ You say, truthfully.

‘Even if it’s by myself?’

‘Especially for that case, sweetheart.’

‘Oh… you’re too good.’

‘You’re blind.’

Most popular idol in the world, and… she’s hopelessly down bad for you.

‘If I’m blind. Then you don’t have eyes—complete darkness.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I’m your biggest fan.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I love you.’

‘You have a way with words, Karina.’ You reply, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, thrusting into her harder, sharing breaths.

‘You’ve inspired me.’

And you lock lips with her, the thrusts were becoming a blur, and her moans music to your ears—it was all just… heaven.

There was no technique. Nothing too purposeful. It was all just pure affection, pure love guiding all your actions. And the fact that she’s cumming again was no coincidence.

‘Oh. My. Fucking. God!’ Her head goes back deep into the pillow and you follow suit. Pressing soft kisses that covered every square centimeter of her beauty, kisses that made her giggle even in her most orgasmic moment of her life.

‘If I knew anything that felt like this… I’d be doing it constantly.’

‘Well—’

‘That’s right,’ Karina gives a soft peck, ‘I have you now.’

You could feel her heartbeat, her skin precipitate, and her cunt pulse—it’s just heaven at this point.

‘Are you trying to convince me to follow you?’

‘2 years, finest in New York.’

‘Deal. Though you overbid a little.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Means anything you want, dear.’

The soft slick of her cunt made it nearly frictionless, just pure pleasure for both parties. Her hips gave way every time, an identity of its own, retreating when you thrust too hard, giving in when softer.’

‘Is this like a sugar mommy situation?’

‘Two words I never expected you to say.’ You both share a laugh.

‘I mean that’s what it is right?’

‘A power imbalance? Please. I can get you to buy a New York penthouse for me at this point.’

‘Well. You’re right. But—’

You bring your cock to the hilt inside of her, whilst stealing her lips for a deep kiss. She moans and mewls and gasps—music to your ears. You change positions. You bring her legs to your shoulders, and you begin kissing along her ankle while thrusting inside of her.

This time, you can see the full view. How her breasts bounce against the thrusts, how her slick has completely covered your entire length at this point, and how beautifully her face is framed between it all.

Her mouth’s agape, moaning, giggling intermittently with the jokes shared through eye contact. You bite softly at her ankle then down her legs, to her calves, then releasing her legs altogether to kiss her again.

She fits perfectly against you, small and delicate but the perfect puzzle piece under you. She’s absorbent, aware of your needs, placing soft kisses along the ridges of your eyebrows, rubbing away the day’s fatigue along your jaw and temple.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘I didn’t hear.’

You press against her, feeling her breasts spool against your chest, bring your thrust to the hilt, the wetness of her loins pressed against yours, all of them vividly apparent. ‘I love your beauty. I love your humor. I love how clever you are. I love how authentic you are. And I could continue on and on but I’m about to cum.’

Karina sniffled, ‘God, I was about to cry and then you say that.’ She softly smacks your shoulder, ‘just cum inside me and let’s cuddle.’

You oblige, the thrusts turn into a haze of pure pleasure, a desperate moment chasing the local maxima, and finally, you burst inside of her. Cum spooled, all inside her, and she moans so gracefully, staring at you with all the affection in the world.

‘We can worry about this tomorrow.’ She palmed your jaw.

‘Of course.’ You fall onto her, cuddling her.

Both of you are a mess, gross, bodily fluids spread everywhere, and yet, the both of you fell into a deep slumber.

A/N: I'd like to apologize for switching up styles so much (But if you enjoyed this dialogue-heavy work, then lmk!)

#smut #kpop smut #fanfic #male reader #kpop #aespa #aespa smut #karina smut #aespa karina

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! I would like to make a request about Dae-Ho, a character I love. I would like the story to show how Dae-Ho and the reader develop a special connection during the games, despite being on opposite sides. She is part of Thanos' team, but they still interact frequently. On one of those nights, they kiss and promise to get to know each other better once it's all over. However, that promise is not fulfilled because she dies in the carousel game.

I hope this story fits the bill. Happy holidays! <3

Anything Is Possible?

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- You are number 230's, rapper Choi Su-bong, sister. Just because you are on 'Thanos Team', does that mean you can Dae-Ho cant get together? Will you survive long enough?

Warnings- Squid Games, Angst, mentions of blood, murder, and death

A/N- I combined this ask with another anon request, "badass reader and daeho! maybe she is related to 100 and that's why the romance is kind of forbidden but she doesn't agree with his actions and thinks daeho is very cute. I would love a first kiss between the two, which she initiated and he was all embarrassed but really excited" I hope y'all don't mind, they were very similar!

Word Count- 4,605

"What is your problem!" You found yourself yelling at your brother. While this was not uncommon, the situation surely was. Thanos the rapper, or just known as Choi Su-bong to you, had pushed several people down on purpose. This killed them in the Red light, Green light game.

"You killed them!" You continued, though he did not seem to care.

"Look, as far as 'The Thanos' is concerned, each body means more cash for MOI!" He spoke, uncaring.

"Oh, and if it was me, would you let me get shot!" You crossed your arms, eyeing him up and down.

He looked around, checking for any guards. He then slipped out his cross form under his shirt. You knew he had some kind of drug in there.

"Look, if it will shut you up, you can have one. But keep your mouth closed!" He ushered his cross in your direction. You rolled your eyes.

"I'd like to at least be aware of my surrounding in a death defying game!" "Shhh, Shhhh!" His face scrunched up as he looked at you, offended. He thought someone might have been drawn to your choice words.

You scoffed and walked off, sitting on the edge of a bed to catch a train of thought.

With a puff, you pressed your head into your hands. Could you really go on like this? Risking your life? Then it hit you, your life was over either way. Loan sharks were bound to kill you the second you left... Might as well go out with a bang?

The gruesome thought lingered until you felt the bed sink next to you.

"Thanos, I don't want to-" You looked up to not see your brother. Instead a man with a '388' on his jacket.

"Well I'm not sure who 'Thanos' is, but are you doing okay?" He looked genuinely concerned.

You started at him for a second, "Like fifty people just died..."

He faltered, "W-well yeah... Obviously you aren't okay... I just, I saw you arguing with that guy... The one with purple hair." You sigh again at his response. Well, this might be the last conversation you ever have. Why not be an open book!

"That's my brother. He thinks since he got one hit song, he can boss anyone around." You again rolled your eyes at the thought of him.

"Oh... I see. I-I have three older sisters, I know how it can get." He said, trying to offer you some sort of condolence.

You gave a side smile at him, appreciative of his efforts. "Thanks... What got you into these games?" You figured there's no reason for 'proper exchanges.' What was the point anymore?

He seemed ashamed at the question. "Sorry, if it makes you feel any better- I'm about 30 million won in debt. Some online crypto coin my brother swindled me into. Lost big time." You explained.

He shook his head, "No, no, its fine. See, I was a marine. Couldn't find a job after I got out. Guess I just got carried away with the wrong people... Got into some bad loans."

You gave a sympathetic face. "That sucks..." He just nodded sheepishly.

A silence fell between you two, but it wasn't awkward or annoying. It just...was.

"Well, uh, which are you going to vote?" He asked like it had been on the tip of his tongue all day.

As the Guards had told us earlier, we would get a chance to vote before the next game. Stay or Go.

"My brother seems pretty adamant on staying... And I honestly don't think it would be smart to piss him off anymore. He's got me in his little clique already." You didn't really know which one you would have chosen if the vote was anonymous.

He nodded in understanding. "I mean, I don't have a groupie or anything. But, you could stick with me if you wanted."

Your heart fluttered. Looking up at him, you seemed to just notice how handsome he was... Then reality hit.

"I deeply appreciate that... But I think you might have better odds without me. Choi- uh Thanos, would probably do something to you... I don't really want to risk it, I'm sorry." You knew that you really did want to be on his team, but you also knew how your brother was.

He had a slight look of defeat on his face, "I get it. I feel confident about the next game. I mean, if they're all children games, how hard can it be? I'll vote the same as you."

You agreed, "Then, maybe I can talk to Thanos? See if he wants another member?" You smiled at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, happily, but the two of you were interrupted when the pink guards came back in. Letting everyone know it was time to vote.

"See ya on the other side." You said, standing up to rejoin Thanos. Plus his newly acquired group of 3.

"Yes ma'am!" He responded, giving a small salute. You just laughed as you glanced at him a last time.

------------------------------------------

"Are you crazy!" Thanos whisper-yelled at you, turning the two of you away from the group. "Are you tryna embarrass me in front of my boys!" He scolded you like a child. His arms and shoulders going up.

"It's not that big of a deal, he was a marine, he could be good for us." Thanos just "tsked' in response.

"No. We are already perfecto. No more room." He said as-a-matter-of-fact. His arms making an 'X.'

You turned and looked at the two men staring at you. "Thanos, there are four of us in total. What if the next game is five players!"

"Huh, and what if its four! Then I'd be pushing YOU out, Cause of ya mouth." He made faces at you, then laughed loudly. "I'm just joking sistah! I'd only do that if you really pissed me off.... We are sticking to four." His expression turned serious.

"Fine."

At a mere coincidence, you turned around and saw '388' staring at you. You mouthed a 'sorry' and shook your head. Signalling Thanos said 'no.'

He nodded, then smiled at you anyways. At that, you watched him walk over and sit with a group of 'X's.

------------------------------------------

The lights soon went out. You laid back in your bed, trying to get some kind of sleep. It was useless, especially when you heard a 'psst' right next to you.

You turned your head, playing cool, even though it did startle you a bit. "Shh, It's just me." The voice rang familiar, and when you squinted your eyes in the dark your made out number 388's face. He was on his knees, crouched down next to your bed.

"What are you doing!" You whispered at him, sitting up quickly. Thanos and his two members were just a bed away.

"Shhhh, I have something to tell you." He said, his hands were waving slightly, a nervous tick.

You eyed him, moving closer. "What?"

"One of the guys has played these before. He said he won the games...That he knows which one is next."

Your hands rise to rub sleep from your eyes, "Really? You think he's telling the truth?"

With a frantic nod he continues, "It was the guy who knew about the Red light, Green light. Number 456."

You looked down, "Why are you telling me this..." You questioned, unaware of any kind of unconditional kindness.

"I want you to survive, why else?" You locked eyes with him. They were honest and pure.

"Well, what's the next game?" You didn't know how to respond to such generosity. For all he knew you would stab him in the back. Not that you could bring yourself to, not after he snuck over to tell you.

"He said its Dalgona. Ya know, the game where you scratch out the candy shape?" You knew the game, having played it in your youth.

"Make sure you pick the Triangle. It's the easiest one." You nodded.

At that, a shuffle made both of you turn your head. Thanos moved in his sleep, rolling over. His eyes were closed, but he was now facing you.

"You better go, in case he wakes up." You warned, not wanting any drama.

His head shook in agreeance, he raised to walk off.

"Wait!" You whispered, he looked back. "What's your name?"

"Dae-Ho. Dae-ho Kang."

"Thank you, Dae-ho..." The corners of your face rose, almost grinning at yourself saying his name.

He gave a small wave of his hand, another salute. You suppressed a giggle, and laid back down. Sleep came easier this time...

------------------------------------------

"Welcome to your second game, this game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes."

You looked around, Dalgona was not a team game. Had Dae-Ho lied to you? No, why else would he sneak over in the middle of the night. It didn't make sense. Maybe 456 was lying?

"Should have listened to me, now we have to find another person." You remarked to your brother, smugly.

"Trust trust, my skeptic sister. Thanos has got this under control!" He spoke about himself, immediately levitating to the closest attractive women. You, once again, found yourself rolling your eyes.

"Señorita, excuse me?" You wanted to physically face palm at his attempt at a pickup line.

------------------------------------------

Quickly enough, time selection was up. Everyone was orderly sat in their groups. Conveniently, Dae-Ho and his group sat behind you.

"Dae-Ho." You called, moving to be in his range of sight.

"Ahh, hey!" He said, excitedly. His demeanor changing from skittish when he saw you.

"So, what happened to Dalgona?" You asked, not blaming him- just curious.

He gave an unsure face, equally as confused. "He said the games must not be the same. I'm sorry."

"What for?" You beamed, knowing it was not his fault.

He laughed, "I guess I don't know.."

You just shook your head humorously. "Which game are you going to do?"

"Uhmm, Gong-Gi... My sister's played it a lot, so I'm used to it."

"They've got me doing spinning top. I was never any good at Gong-Gi." You made a glance to Thanos, he was high out of his mind. You caught him slipping Nam-Gyu a pill. He didn't notice you talking to Dae-Ho.

"I wish you the best of luck!" He gave a quick bow of the head.

------------------------------------------

The game went smoothly enough. Though, it took much longer than Red light, Green light. Watching all of the teams go one at a time was excruciating.

A handful of words exchanged with Dae-Ho while waiting was calming, it grounded you. He had nothing to gain by helping you, he simply did. It was flattering.

You and Dae-Ho had figured out that his team was going last. It was nerve-wracking to think about him not making it. No one had ever effected you like this before...

Eventually your team went, suffering frequent verbal degration from Thanos and Nam-Gyu. Thankfully your team made it with 8 seconds to spare. Too close for your comfort.

The worst part came when you had to wait. You felt like you could hear a large clock ticking right by your ear.

Would Dae-Ho's team make it? You didn't doubt his Gong-Gi skills, but he was dependent on the skills of his team mates as well. It was terrifying to think they were shot with not enough time to complete the games.

You couldn't bare Thanos bantering, he complained about every survivor. It just made you more paranoid about Dae-Ho's possible death.

Trying to settle your mind, you stepped away from your group, preferring to sit by yourself on the edge on the steps. You picked at your nails, praying he would make it.

Minutes and minutes went by. No one had come out in a while. Was the game finished? Did they die?

Just as you were about to return to your brother hopeless, one last group appeared.

A gasp left you as you watched Dae-Ho's team emerge. You stood up, cheering with a handful of other players. Your hands were clasped gleefully In front of you.

Dae-Ho's gaze was fixed on you, he chuckled. His first raised in victory.

You gave him a salute back.

------------------------------------------

You managed to slip away from Thanos. He was too busy hitting on Se-Mi. You were grateful for her, it took some of the pressure and attention off of you. You had to remember to thank her later.

"Dae-Ho!" You called out, he turned around and stepped away from his group.

"You were amazing! You went 'Wooshhh' and got the top first try!" He was practically bouncing on his heels. He mimicked the process of spinning a top with his hands and body.

"Thank you, Thank you." You pretended like you were bowing to an applauding audience.

"How did Gong-Gi go?" You asked, antsy. He rubbed the back on his neck.

He grinned deep, "Would you believe me if I said I got it first try too?"

Your face lit up, "Really!"

"I swear it!" He placed a hand across his chest.

You gave a quick clap to him, "I knew you could do it!"

You felt like a schoolgirl again. Talking to Dae-Ho made you feel like a blushing bride. He was such a ray of light and hope for you.

"What do you think the next game is?" He questioned, taking a seat on a step by the large doors.

You thought for a second, "I don't know, Maybe some kind of mind game. Since the last two have been really physical."

He nodded, "Yeah, maybe, maybe. Thats smart thinking."

You joined him on the step facing him. While you were about to change the conversation, you overheard a few people talk about what they were voting next. It reminded you of the real life-or-death situation you were in.

"So, d'ya think you're going to change your vote?" You became more solemn.

"...Yeah, I just... The others have convinced me. I mean, truly, I shouldn't have voted 'stay' in the first place..." He looked down, almost as if he had disappointed you.

"Honestly, Dae-Ho... I want to leave too... But, but, what if I press 'leave', and we still have to continue the games. Then Thanos would be pissed, and deep down I need him. He's still my brother." You hated the fact, but you were scared of what Thanos would do.

Dae-Ho thought for a moment. He mumbled something you didn't quite catch. "What?" He stood up.

"I can protect you. Honest. With my life." Your breath hitched, you stood up as well.

You shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. "Oh Dae-Ho... That's just the thing. I can't have you risking your life. Not for me."

He gently lifted your hands into his. "You are worth risking my life for."

"Dae-Ho, you don't even know my name." Your voice quivered.

He nodded quick, "Then lets change that. What's your name." You bit your bottom lip before telling him.

"Now, I can defend you from Thanos. He won't do anything to do." He ended with your name, it sounded angelic coming from his mouth.

"I'm sorry... I just... can't." You let go of his hands, fully set on walking away. But, he stopped you. He grasped your shoulder.

"Please don't go. I'll stop talking about it, I swear." He pleaded. He truly just wanted to be with you, he was content with you.

And you were with him.

You closed your eyes, shook your head. You fought off any kind of objection. "Okay."

The two of you talked and talked, time ran past. You no longer seemed to worry about the games, just that you knew you wanted to stay with Dae-Ho.

Until, the large doors opened and the pink guards once again announced a vote.

You said a quick 'goodbye' to Dae-ho, hoping the games wouldn't continue. Even if you never saw him again, at least he would be alive.

------------------------------------------

Much to your dismay, the games would continue another round. The vote wasn't even close this time. It was almost relieving, knowing that your vote was not the determining factor.

Once again, the lights went out to signify the night. You noticed teams were huddling together for protection, taking shifts and keeping watch. It was getting more serious as each hour went by. You could not find rest, feeling extremely uneasy.

While you tried to find some sort of reassurance in Thanos, he was fast asleep. You decided to take your chance and go see Dae-Ho. Just as he had done for you.

You knew the general area where his group was, but couldn't make out specific people in the dark. Not from your distance.

You racked up the nerve to quietly shuffle over. Your socks helping to muffle any noise.

"Shh, someone is coming." You heard a man whisper, it was 456. You could see the large numbers next to the 'O' on his jacket.

"I-is Dae-Ho with you..." You ask, shakily.

"And what do you want with him?" A man next to 456 spoke, defensively.

"I- Hes my friend, I need to talk to him." You tried, fiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah, Sure he is. You're probably trying to get in and take one of us out, huh!" The man 390 rose, acting like he was ready to fight.

You stepped back, "No, really, I swear I'm not!"

You heard your name, a confused Dae-Ho crawled out from under a bed. "Dae-Ho, please tell them in not trying to kill any of you."

"What?" He was still weary from sleep, rubbing his eyes. Once he saw the position you and 390 were in, He quickly stepped between the two of you.

"No, No, she wouldn't do that. Really, whatever shes saying she's telling the truth." Dae-Ho came to your rescue.

"Can we talk Dae-Ho?" You stepped closer to him, both of your hands gently resting on his arm. He nodded rapidly, stepping away from his group.

The two of you found a cluster of abandoned beds, and sat on the floor between them

"Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?" He looked you over for any visible infliction's.

"No, no I'm fine..." You pulled your knees to your chest. "I just wanted to see you." You felt silly once it left your lips.

His face flushed beet red, you could even tell in the dark. His hair falling in his face made you reach a hand out and brush it back. "O-oh"

"You never told me what you think the next game is, Dae-Ho." You needed a distraction.

He shook his head, like he was getting some thoughts out. "I have no idea... I just hope its an easy one. Gi-Hun, uh 456, said that they've already played Tug-of-war, Marbles, and some kind of glass stepping game. So, uh, I would assume none of those would repeat."

"I'm glad I missed Tug-of-war... That would mean the number of survivors would be half..." You thought.

He changed the subject, beginning with your name. "What's wrong? I know you said you wanted to see me, but, I guess I don't understand why."

"Dae-Ho, I don't really know why either. I just, wanted to be with you. I feel safe with you. I feel like I'm alone anytime you walk away..." You blinked away a stray tear.

Dae-Ho was lost in thought, he had thought his feelings weren't reciprocated. Maybe they were after all?

He didn't have time to speak, because you have lounged yourself forward in a burst of confidence. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pushed him to the floor. He was laid on his back with you on top of him, as you pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

His eyes widened, his body went rigid. When you pulled away to look at him, he stammered. "I-I, Uhm."

At his reaction you pulled away quickly, "I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"Can you please do that again." He was now giddy, a fat smile on his face. Excitement radiated out of him. "A-are you sure.. You seemed so..."

"No, no, you just caught me off guard, please, please kiss me again." He scrambled to a sit, hoping you would come closer again.

With a refound joy, you moved closer. This time you went slow, making sure to bask in the moment. You once again wrapped your arms around Dea-Ho's neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

"You're perfect.." He mumbled against your lips. Though, he felt something wet on his face. He pulled away, his eyes soft, "Whats wrong?"

You sniffled, "Promise me. Promise me, that after everything is over, that we will find each other." You asked, pressing your cheek against his.

"I swear it, I swear we will meet after the games." He leaned in for another kiss.

------------------------------------------

"Welcome to your third game. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

Okay, this one seemed safe. You had a large group, this can work. You tried to be positive, you had someone to look forward to after the game.

"Heyyy, we'll be mingling together. Doesn't that sound like so much fun?" Thanos went on, trying to hype everyone up. The only one who was just as high as him was Nam-Gyu. It worried you that he wasn't fully aware of his surroundings, but at least he wasn't on your tail about everything.

"Please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

You nodded, understanding the rules. Everyone gathered to the platform. You noticed groups staying together, huddling close.

While following Thanos, you passed Dae-Ho's group, you caught his eye and gave him a small salute. It seemed the two of you now had an inside joke.

"Let the game, begin."

At the jump and pull of the platform, you almost lost your balance. You reached a hand out and held onto your brother. He looked over at you, for a split second he actually seemed like your brother. He was there for you.

That's until a muffled snort came from Nam-Gyu. Thanos pushed your hand off, laughing at you.

You sighed and thought of a smart remark, but the platform stopped spinning and a 'Ten' rang out.

Thanos laughed loudly, "We needa four!!" He screamed, shaking his face all about.

"Were four!" A man yelled back, and Thanos took off running. Your eyes widened and you ran after him. "Run, Hurry!" You yelled at Se-Mi, who had stopped to grab Min-Su.

Luckily everyone had made it to the room, just as the door shut the timer went off. The door locked shut. You peaked out of the doors small slit. You didn't see Dae-Ho. A good sign.

Multiple gunshots rang out, each making your body jolt.

"Ha Ha! My family! We did it!" Thanos bantered, clapping some of the men on their backs.

When the doors finally opened again, you looked around. You looked and looked for Dae-Ho. Finally sighing in relief when you saw him. He ran over to you.

"You're okay, thank God!" He hugged you, you held him tight.

You swallowed hard, "It's not over yet. I'll find you after the next round!" You said, quickly finding Thanos again.

"Yeahhhh! Easyyy!" Him and Nam-Gyu joked back and forth. They started dancing to the music as the platform started rotating again.

'Four'

Thanos stopped and looked at his group for a minute. "Gyeong-su, you're with me!" He grabbed his hand, pulling him.

"Damn!" Nam-Gyu said, gripping your arm and pulling you. While you were happy to be chosen, you were worried for Min-su and Se-Mi.

"Lets goooo!" Thanos yelled once we were all in the room.

"Thanos what was that! Gyeong-su over me!" You pointed your finger at him.

"I swear I thought I was pulling you! Besides, you gotta stop running your mouth. You made it, you're fine!"

You couldn't believe what he was saying. Sure, he talked a lot about leaving you. But it was always just talk? Right?

The door opened once again, you were thankful to be away from Thanos. Your new objective was to find Dae-Ho now.

This time, the second you saw him- you ran to him. You no longer cared about what Thanos thought, nor what he'd do.

"I'm so happy to see you." Dae-Ho mumbled into your hair, which his face had been shoved into right after you ran into his arms.

"I have to stay with you, Thanos tried to leave me. I can't make it with him." Dae-Ho didn't hesitate, and pulled you over to his group.

Though, Thanos didn't like that. "Yo, brotha. What're you doing with my sister!" He tried to shove Dae-Ho, but he was bigger and stronger.

The platform started to spin.

"Leave her alone, you obviously cant take care of your sister." He ushered you behind him.

"I don't know what you're talking about bro! I save her, shes only alive because of me and Nam-Gyu!" He argued, leaving out the crucial part of information where he wasn't the one who grabbed you.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I will keep her safe now, you can mind your own business and get along with Nam-Gyu."

They continued to yell and argue over the carousel's music, it was difficult to hear them. Until,

'Three'

Thanos gripped one of your arms, Dae-Ho held another.

"Thanos, let go!" You yelled, trying to pull from his grasp.

It was chaotic, screaming was heard around you. "Dae-Ho, this way!" Two men yelled out, Dae-Ho twisted his head but didn't move.

Your stomach dropped. You couldn't be the reason Dae-Ho would die. You were all running out of time.

"Dae-Ho, go. Please! I'll go with Thanos and Nam-Gyu!"

"I'm not leaving you!" He was adamant about protecting you. Damned everyone else.

"If you don't go, we will all die. Time is running out!" Dae-Ho battled internally, you let go of his hand.

"Go! It's okay, I'll see you in a minute!"

He didn't want to leave, he couldn't. But you made him. When he slowly walked backwards, you let out a relived sigh. You then turned to run with Thanos. Nam-Gyu was already in a room, his yelling ushering you two forward.

It was going to be okay, The three of you in a room. Everything was fine. There was time.

Until, Nam-Gyu moved out of the way... Gyeong-su was behind him... There was already two in the room. Thanos ran in, not thinking twice.

Your running came to a stop right outside of the door. Where Thanos himself had closed it on you.

A "NO!" Was heard from across the room. It was Dae-Ho. He tried to come to you, but he was too far.

Player 456 and player 001 were pulling him into a room. Forcing the door shut. You could see Dae-Ho looking out of the door slit, his hands peaking out as well.

You didn't turn to see what Thanos might have been doing. You didn't care. Not anymore.

You just wanted your last moment to be looking at the most handsome man you'd ever met. His soft eyes were filled with tears as he watched you.

You weren't upset, not scared, not nervous. Not anymore.

It would all be over soon.

You gave him one last salute before a loud bang rang out.

A/N- Not going to lie ya'll, I ate that up. But I still love hearing y'all's constructive criticism! Please LMK if you want to be added to my tag list, TYSM for reading!

Dae-Ho Taglist- @fuzzyscissorsmakerpie-blog @thethreeeyed-raven

986 notes · View notes

astroismypassion · 3 days ago

Text

Relationship and Compatibility Takes 📍📍📍

Credit @astroismypassion

This is purely based on real life, more so astrology opinions about placements in the Natal chart, so don’t take things to heart.

📍 Cancer Venus men: What is up with them? I think this is one of the placements that is so misrepresented in astrology community. They act really impulsively based on emotion without careful reasoning or thinking of the long-term consequences. The clingy, emotionally mature and wise must be Cancer Venus women then. They are attracted to younger partners. Loves giving food as a gift, even for birthdays. Even when committed, they are not that incredibly loyal and devoted as often described, I’ve seen these people change partners fast or end a partnership on a whim. Also, minus points for not being as affectionate as they are often described. Low key this Venus sign does not give me any stability vibes, they are highly unpredictable (each day is different), must be up there with Gemini, Aquarius, Virgo Venus.

📍 Capricorn Moon: These people attract people with father issues or those who don’t have a father present in their life. Usually Capricorn Moon’s partner has life-long challenges with the father. I noticed a lot of partners of Capricorn Moon became more depressed as the time passed. The partnership with Capricorn Moon can weigh them down, but only after years, this becomes noticable. Loves younger partners.

📍 Gemini Juno: having a Gemini Juno as a partner is a very unique experience. They will remember your favourite snack, song that you mentioned on the first date. However, they do demand a lot in return! They like someone as equally thoughtful, observant and some who just pays attention to everything they say, do and how they react. Gemini Juno native, however, really just loves simple picnics in nature, going for coffee with you, cooking with you, watching films with favourite snacks. They are in love with all the little, simple things in life shown consistently and usually don’t need big gestures.

📍 Ascendant Pluto aspects men: Loves to date significantly younger partner from what I’ve seen. They always go for someone unassuming and less popular than them, but who is really kind, sweet and cute. Genuine kindness and being a good person is so important to them in a partner. However, likely to choose a younger partner, so they can better control them. I said what I said, they can’t help themselves.

📍Pisces Moon: Low key loves to be bossed around. They attract controlling and orderly partners, because they crave a sense of structure that they lacked as a child.

📍Aries Moon: They are looking for a partner with rules, who will bring discipline to the relationship and someone who will dominate them. These people are so soft and obedient around their family members, close friends or a partner! They just don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, like ever.

📍Aquarius Moon: They love travelling with their friends, even with a couple third wheeling like a really throuple. Some even go camping with friends often. They love having traditions with friends, like for halloween or like a yearly ski trip. This is either a city boi turned country boy or vice versa. Someone who lived in the country their first half of live and later moved to a bigger city. They are kinda urban people, but then always complains about wanting a more peaceful environment.

📍Pisces Mars: Quite literally the dick that doesn’t know any limits. So struggles with boundaries, if their feelings are involved. These people are lead by their emotions. If they still like you, they will want to touch you. Low key, sometimes disregards whether you are in a partnership or not, because they don’t even care, because their emotions are involved. But they do give plenty second chances, benefit of the doubt! And you will feel like it is incredibly hard to walk away from Pisces Mars, just because they are trying to have that eternal bond with you and it shows! They really want to keep you in their life forever, if they feel like you two are vibing well!

📍Scorpio Moon: Now, this is just alltogether an unique one! I argue this is the most unique, complex and interesting native, because each is so specific due to their lifestory and experiences. They have really one-of-a-kind life and energy and you will feel it! However, yes! They are obsessed with themselves (like JLo), but usually is rightly so! They are the highest earner in the company, your rags to riches lifestory hero, someone who had a transformative effect on their field. They usually have controlling partners.

📍Taurus Moon: Why does every Taurus Moon I know behave like a Libra Moon? 😩 They are either single and content for a while or can be constantly found in a partnership. This doesn’t mean they are codependent, just always find themselves in a partnership. Though, they do heavily rely on emotional support from their partner, because they don’t receive it from their family.

📍Gemini Venus: For what I’ve seen a lot of Gemini Venuses met their “real love” partner while in a marriage or partnership to someone else.

📍Libra Mars/Mars at a Libra degree (7, 19): They are low key so erratic😭. Their behaviour towards you is constantly switching up. This makes them appear chaotic, inconsistent and indecisive, very hot and cold behaviour as well. They are actually really critical of people around them. They have a tendency “to discipline” their partners. They can be tactless, out of all Libra placements this is not a peaceful mediator, but the one that stirs conflict between their partner and their family. And at the first moment they seem to be fed up, they end the relationship and find a new one. They switch partners a lot and have dated quite a few people in life, but always for a shorter period of time. They struggle with keeping a partnership for 2, 3 years. They also desire really flexible, compromising partner who go along with their wishes.

📍Leo Venus: some say that if you have Leo Venus as your partner, that this means you are really good-looking. They are realy sweet, but demanding. It’s not a walk in the park to get them OR to KEEP them. They are selective. But their downside is that they struggle not with getting a partner, but keeping them. I think they have a hard time holding onto a relationship, like any other Leo placement (I’m looking at you Leo Moon and Leo Lilith👀).

📍Capricorn Venus: Ahh, these are my late bloomers. Best not to get tied down to a marriage before your first Saturn Return. These natives when younger, before the age of 30, have a skewed idea of love, partnership or marriage. It’s best to do some soul searching and getting to know your values, expectations before entering a partnership. Because this is why they experience so much disappointment in younger years. Their old age is the time to get coupled up! And also, really take the necessary time to understand yourself. You usually when younger just get along with whatever your partner suggests!

📍Aquarius Venus, Venus at an Aquarius degree (11, 23): Surprisingly, they could have a committed partner and still a “friend” with whom they are romantic on the side. They are romantic with their friends a lot of time, consciously or unconsciously.

📍 Leo Mars: They are more Leo Sun than the real Leo Sun, if you ask me. Surprisingly emotional! But they are quick to forgive you, if you acknowledge and validate their emotions. They need a partner that will make their perspective heard. When they feel under-appreciated, they act out, which leads to dramatic frustration or hurt. Also, they are constantly act in ways that they seek acknowledgement, validation from their partner. But they will celebrate you in return! If you are acting too shy with them, it’s also a no go for them!

📍Taurus Mars: Surprisingly controlling, like Virgo Mars, likes routine and predictable partnerships, they dislike flaky people. They will resolve conflict only if they believe in the long-term of a partnership! Otherwise, they will sink that partnership. Need a lot of validation from partner. Also, they seek drama and conflica when they sense you ignoring them or pulling back too much and this is kind of unexpected from them.

📍Cancer Mars: Wants to build a home or family together with a partner or completely runs away from the idea. They cherish memories, traditions and milestones, can be sentimental and nostalgic in this manner. They often look back on your shared memories together and reminisce. However, be mindful, they struggle with letting go of past hurts, grievances in the partnership. Because they withdraw so often, you are likely to experience misunderstandings with them!

📍Mars in the 10th house: They are trying to create business, legacy and personal success with their partner. They seek a partnership that aligns with or enhances them. Attracted to people who excude strength, authority or have a commanding presence. Usually Mars in the 10th house takes a leadership role in the partnership, so prepare for this! They also want to constantly influence the direction of the partnership. Or wanting “to guide” you! They might attract partners for the wrong reasons, such as status or mutual gain, rather than emotional compatibility, so beware.

📍Sagittarius Mars: Hates controlling partners. They dislike predictability and stagnant energy, unless this is indicated by other aspects. They love idea of building and growing a partnership. They desire new levels of commitment. Loves someone who is enthusiastic about going to a new coffee shop, wants to try new cuisine. They crave a balance between closeness and pursuing own interests, passions. Because they are so blunt themselves, they expect their partner to do the same! In conflicts, they prioritize truth over sensitivity and that’s the hard truth about them! They are incredibly playful, like what you would expect from a Leo Mars, often create spontaneous plans, trips. They are restless and struggle with focus in long-term partnership.

📍Virgo Mars: They attract a lot of emotionally constipated, emotionally unavailable people (which is true for Gemini and Virgo placements in general). They naturally worry or have anxiety about the partnership. They struggle to see the bigger picture when in a partnership. They are conflict avoidant. But they do need a partner that is stable, deliberate, attentive and not overly dramatic. They always need a sense of well organisation in a partnership in order to thrive.

#astrology #astroismypassion #astro notes #astroblr #astro community #astro note #astro observations #natal chart #astrology blog #chart reading

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mariemomentsmoments · 1 day ago

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This will like actually happen I think. Like the idea of Ragatha being a manipulator was something I was sold on for a bit but her being someone who helps others for the sake of personal affirmation actually makes a lot more sense. Her also being convinced she's a bad person for it makes sense to me. It's clear she never puts focus on her problems even when she gets hit with shit that could literally abstract someone so she's not some horrible person. She just doesn't know how to take care of herself without the affirmation of others and hopes helping them will get her that. This makes even more sense when you consider she's been in the circus for such a long time, she's lost so many so it's probably hard to feel like her care has had a genuine impact so she just resorted to behaviors which kept her sane in a slightly more selfish way. It probably also doesn't help that the girl is HORRIBLE at helping people, she made Pomni feel infantilized and Gangle has no idea if she's genuine or not. That suggests to me she's either not putting in effort but still expecting the same results of affirmation in return, or she just sucks at this and it kinda just contributes to everything else at play here like her thinking she's a bad person. Her seeing herself as a villain rather than ACTUALLY being a villain is just cooler and makes more sense.

the comic about evil ragatha who is being very evil because she's just so evil

#I'm like really poopid but maybe I'll be right...

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gyaruhana · 2 days ago

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hii I was js wondering if u cld write some headcannons or a scenario for yandere myung gi (player 333) nothing specificc

Myung-gi/Player 333 - Yandere Headcannons

Synopsis: Headcannons of Myung-gi liking you just a little too much.. (okay, it's way more than a little)

A/N: cute idea i like !!

Warnings: obsessive behavior, yandere content, kidnapping, murder, stalking

➠ Yandere Myung-gi is such a good thought..

➠ Likely watched you from afar at first but not in a stalker-ish way

➠ Moreso he'd stare at you if you were nearby and think about how you are so very pretty

➠ although, to be fair, he did find all your social media profiles when he got home but that was the most of it !!

➠ he only got obsessive when he saw you talking to some guy and felt quite angry

➠ from there he started stalking you to your house, to your job- everywhere just to make sure no one else was pining after you.

➠ if someone was, he'd leave a very ominous message about staying away from you or harm would come to the persons family

➠ Of course, it was all just threats to scare people away.

➠ eventually, he wormed his way into your life with a cute smile and a flushed face

➠ you could never think he was a bad guy because he seemed so cute and genuine when he asked you out

➠ That was a mistake

➠ You agreeing to go out with him made his obsession with you a million times worse

➠ First time he went to your house he may have, or may have not, stolen your underwear and uh.. you could guess what he did with that when he went home.

➠ He just really likes your scent okay !!

➠ In front of you, he's a total sweetheart. Behind your back, he's fucking crazy

➠ the first time he killed someone was when a guy flirted with you after Myung-gi left you alone for just a moment

➠ something in him just snapped that day and that guy who had the audacity to come close to you was now in his room, tied up, and having his fingers cut off one by one

➠ Cut the guys tongue off as well before killing him because he wanted the guy to learn a lesson about daring to talk to his girl like that

➠ from then, he didn't shy away from killing people who even looked at you

➠ you were unaware about what he was up to because he was so very careful when cleaning up

➠ You didn't figure it out until it was far too late and he had you in the palm of his hand

➠ When he finally admits what he's done for you (or you find out and confront him), he's begging you to stay

➠ He'd really rather not hurt you at all

➠ But if you try to leave he's quick to knock you out

➠ absolutely does kidnap you and apologizes over and over again while saying that he's doing it for your own good

➠ overall, very protective and wants you all to himself

"I'm really sorry, baby, but you were trying to leave me," he spoke with an apologetic tone as his thumb gently stroked your cheek. Your hands and legs were bound to a chair as you struggled against it, tears filling your eyes. The sight made Myung-gi's heart ache but he knew this was for your own good. He couldn't let you leave him - not when you were soulmates. "Don't cry.. I'll keep you safe from everyone else,"

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #myung gi #squid game s2

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casscainmainly · 2 days ago

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A Deep Dive Into Why Cass Threw Dick Out A Window

If you've been here long enough you've probably seen or heard of this moment, which is super hilarious and iconic. It's mostly discussed in reference to Dick and Cass' relationship. However, in my opinion Cass throwing Dick out a window had very little to do with her opinion of him, or even of Barbara; it has more to do with her understanding of romance and love. I briefly touched on this in my gender/sexuality post, but I'm going to explain more in depth my interpretation of how Dick functions in Batgirl (2000) as a whole. (This moment is very open to interpretation though, this is just my opinion!). So let's try to answer Dick's question: what was that all about?

Love, Language, and DickBabs

While Puckett's run is notable for not having Cass date anyone, romantic love does play a role in Cass' early understanding of the world. It's the impetus that spurs her to write: in issue 2, she sees a wife read a letter from her deceased husband, and her reaction affects Cass so strongly she immediately starts trying to write. (She also kisses the husband on the cheek earlier, which may or may not be a crush). Romance, and the ability to communicate your love, is a fundamental part of Cass' desire to learn language.

So we have Cass, who has experienced neither love nor language, living with Babs, who's in a relationship with Dick. This telephone conversation in #4 (the issue where a metahuman changes Cass' brain into understanding language) again links romance to communication. Dick and Babs are talking on the phone, unable to see each other but understanding each other perfectly; Cass and Babs, on the other hand, live together and can't understand each other at all.

"She can't talk, so it's not all that different [to living alone]." Babs is telling an eavesdropping Cass that her inability to speak prevents her from love and connection - a love and connection symbolised by one of the first romantic relationships Cass is consistently around, Dick and Barbara.

Dick as an Ideal

There's a debate whether Cass likes Dick or not because half the time they're friendly, and half the time she's punching him or throwing him out windows. This disparity makes sense if you consider that Cass strongly associates DickBabs with communication, understanding, love - very idealised notions - but she does not associate Dick as a person with them. Her interactions with Dick (sans Babs) are cute and normal - Batgirl #29 and Nightwing #81 feature some very adorable Dick-Cass moments, with no real tension whatsoever.

It's only when Cass sees Dick in a romantic light (as in associated with Babs) that she makes him into a symbol.

Cass often tries to copy Babs, thinking it's the 'correct' thing to do - in DC First: Batgirl/Joker, she goes after Joker because that's what Barbara did; later in Horrocks' run she'll wear Barbara's outfit. In a way, Cass' affairs with Tai'Darshan and Kon - as much as I do think Tai'Darshan was genuine attraction - is another way to 'copy' Barbara. In #42, Cass stares at a picture of Dick and Babs while asking if Babs likes boys. Obviously Cass knows the answer is yes, but see what she asks next, and how Barbara responds:

She shifts from 'like' to 'love', and Babs responds that she 'care[s]' about him. For Cass, whose arc in Horrocks' run is about parsing out the nuances of attraction, understanding the difference between like, love, and care is incredibly difficult. She struggles to separate familial from romantic (Bruce in #50) or romantic from platonic (Kon, and in somewhat the reverse way Steph). In this conversation, Cass comes to associate Dick with like, love, and care - DickBabs becomes not just a symbol of romantic love, but of any connection whatsoever.

The Old Costume

I've discussed elsewhere that Cass wearing Babs' old costume in #45 is a representation of her desire to be 'girly', and how she associates girlhood with someone other than herself, discarding her own costume for Babs'. But putting on a costume is not the only prerequisite for being a 'girl'. In Babs' speech to Cass, she emphasises being sexually attractive to men, with her final comment being about this "particular look Dick used to give [her]". For Cass, visual language is incredibly important; putting on Babs' costume is not about being or feeling like a girl, but about being perceived as one. Dick is symbolic of the perceiver: the one who can essentially 'grant' women their femininity.

But Cass is disgusted when Tim calls her hot, which adds to her confusion - why should Dick being attracted to Babs make Babs happy, but Tim (who's not a sibling at this time) perceiving her like that grosses her out? Cass' inability to feel good - to feel 'feminine' - through the male gaze is another sign, to her, of her failure to be a woman.

Which finally brings us to issue 46...

That Ableist Kon Comment

Cass finds out Dick breaks Babs' heart and then starts hallucinating on a drug. One of the things she hallucinates is Kon saying "who wants to date a cripple? Ain't that right, Nightwing?" and Nightwing responding "not me--at least, not anymore."

For the first time, we get to the heart of why DickBabs mattered to Cass: it was an example of a disabled person in a loving, romantic relationship. It goes back to that phone call in #4, where Babs implies that Cass is hard to care about because she can't speak. The Kon comment suggests Cass has carried that with her all this time, trying to find proof that she can be loved, no matter her disability. DickBabs showed her it could be done - the break-up shows her now that it can't be done.

Dick's hallucination mocks her disability: "look at her--she can't even read!" Attributing this mockery to Dick (whose real-life counterpart, unlike the other hallucinations, has never said anything remotely like this) shows that this 'Dick-as-ideal' is intrinsically tied to Cass' self-worth.

Honestly this whole post stemmed from me thinking about this one panel. There is no real reason, from Cass' view of Dick as a person, for her to think he's brave and noble and kind (more so than anyone else). But it's in the DickBabs context - that Dick seemed to love, wholeheartedly, a disabled woman - that makes Cass think this way. And now that DickBabs is broken up, it shows that she, too, is rotten to the core; that someone like her cannot be loved.

And so when Dick shows up, she throws him out the window.

Conclusion

In this moment, Cass isn't just reacting to Dick breaking up with Barbara, she's reacting to what it means to her. If Dick can't stay with Barbara, then that means Cass, as another disabled woman, is also unable to be loved. This all leads up to #50, which features another Cass punch to Dick's face, but more importantly is when Bruce and Cass reconcile through Cass' first language. It's a confirmation that though her verbal skills may not be fully developed, she still can communicate, and she can love and be loved.

I don't think a lot of the ideas I touched on here are fully developed, or conclude cleanly. For example, how does Cass' 'failure' to be a woman relate to her inability to be loved? Is she able to have a stable romantic relationship? There are lots more questions, but the role Dick specifically plays in Cass' understanding of romance is probably not going to develop further. I just think it's interesting how Horrocks uses the Dick-Babs relationship to explore Cass' identity.

#cassandra cain #dick grayson #barbara gordon #batgirl 2000 #meta #im sorry if this doesn't make sense im not sure how coherent this is #i always see people bring the window thing up as an example of cass hating dick which is fair but undersells this moment by a lot #it's one of the many many moments in horrocks run that are somewhat ambiguous and have to do with cass' gender crisis #people can still joke about this ofc it's funny but it's also just really intriguing to me #idk anyway forever a horrocks champion i guess. he gets some flack for sexualising cass (which does happen and is gross)#but his exploration of cass' gender and sexuality is STILL unmatched. god give cass more long-term woman writers

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felassanis · 1 day ago

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I genuinely think Lavellan is the first relationship Solas has had. Especially an explicitly romantic one.

Veilguard Spoilers ahead. But regardless of what the primary nature of his relationship with Mythal was. There clearly was an infatuation. A dedication so raw back then that I genuinely don't think Solas was looking at anyone else but Mythal. Either because he longed for her in some (arguably unrequited) capacity or the loyalty he had for her trumped any other distractions.

But then. She dies. And he grieves, and he ultimately destroys the world in that grief. And he's spent thousands of years away from Mythal. And while he's still obviously dedicated to her, the rawness of that bond has simmered.

And then he meets Lavellan.

"It's been a long time," he says when you tease him about him using fade tongue. And while yes, you could see this as Solas confirming he has had prior romantic relationships. I actually think it refers to Mythal, to the fact it's been a long time since he's felt so close to somebody.

We know ancient elves felt operated differently than modern-day elves when it came to expression in a relationship. What we think is romantic might not have been as such back then. So I'm NOT saying Solas is inexperienced, but rather, I do think the only bond he's had that consumed him completely, that was loving, was Mythal. Until he meets Lavellan.

There is a genuine...newness to the relationship. There are so many instances where Solas seems so mildly surprised by Lavellan's actions. For the care she puts into their relationship. My favourite being when Lavellan promises to protect him in Haven from anyone looking to hurt him because he's an apostate elf. The way his eyes widen and he says "...thank you," like he's never experienced someone looking out for him so...outwardly. So willing to put his safety as a priority. (And that makes me sob cause oh my god I wonder if anyone cared about Solas's safety ever)

And I genuinely think his bond to Mythal coloured Solas's expectations when it comes to any relationship, especially a romantic one. It's like Solas isn't used to someone reciprocating HIS feelings lmao. And that's doubly apparent in the Solavellan ending, I think. Lavellan and Solas's interactions are so interesting because Solas GENUINELY has not let himself believe for nearly 10 years that Lavellan forgave him. Cannot believes she is even there, willing and wanting to save him from himself.

This does not strike me as someone who's used to relationships. To the give and take. The safety. The sustainability....

I think Solas spent so long yearning for the reciprocation he never received from Mythal only to get it finally with Lavellan. He longed for Mythal to reciprocate, and she didn't. Not until she finally shared the burden of their actions at the end. And there is no comfort in that burden now being acknowledged by her. She releases him from her service and vanishes as he's left to double over by himself.

At least he would be, but lavellan is there to lower herself to his level and comfort him. They're equals where Solas and Mythal were not. Solas is not Lavellan's lapdog. And she is not warped and changed by him as she offered to do so back in Trespasser. He didn't let her come with him to avoid the fate that befell him when he followed Mythal. They're Partners. Lovers.

And even THEN. EVEN THEN. Solas is shocked Lavellan wants to go with him to the Fade. To the point his eyes tear up, he CRIES. Warning her away but you can see in his face he is fucking DESPERATE for her to follow. Because he wants to love and have that love returned at long last.

And it is. It finally is.

#solavellan meta #solavellan #solas #solas dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 4 #dragon age veilguard #dragon age

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secretress · 1 day ago

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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐲. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.❞

Are you the sun, the moon, or the stars? (Detailed + channeled song)

Masterlist.

Author's note,

I was just thinking about writing random things for the author's note. Usually I have nothing to add, but author's note divides well for 'masterlist,' and 'divider.'

Moodboard | Divider

Pile I.

“When a shooting star is in the air, everyone gazes at it like it is something magical, but when you come into the spotlight, no one does the same, and yet you keep shining. Why shine when everything around you does not do the same?” A lot of people question this. I see so many people in one room, you in the middle, a spotlight shining on you, and yet there is a pretty smile on your face as if you are the star of the show even though they are behind you holding a rose to someone else. So why is it that you shine whether or not people focus on you? What makes it easier for you to do such a thing even when you cannot and you are scared?

Why do people’s questions like these sometimes affect you when you are a star? When you are so radiant, both inside and out, so genuine, so caring, and such a pretty soul? What makes it easier for you to cower into a small ball in the back of your mind when others say things like that to you? Sure, you will put a front on, but why? Why not let them know that their opinion does not matter to you as you already do, but actually mean it? You should mean it.

If a shooting star grabs others attention instantly, if people make wishes when they see one, if people take photographs of it, if people are so in awe of it, why can’t you do the same with yourself and mean it? What makes it so hard for you to remove the mask with yourself and become genuine with your own heart? To go within the depth of your pretty heart and figure out what makes you so insecure about who you are because, mind you, you are supposed to shine. You are supposed to be in the spotlight, and you already know this. You are supposed to be seen and you know this; you are the one who is trying to be seen, so when it happens, why let others hurt you? Why let others take your actual spotlight away from yourself? Shine brighter around them and forget their words, it should not mean anything when you already know what you want.

Sometimes figuring out what we want can be challenging, everyone has been there, yet you already found it out, so why push it away out of fear? You are deserving of being in the spotlight, it is your dream, so make it yours, make it your shooting star and when the star burns up, let an illuminating trail of light appear so people know who you are, so people know that you did that, and go on with your day. Because you did that, you got out of that hellhole and shined brighter than any star, and fled to somewhere that makes you safe or you will. And yet, everything holds you back. It is okay to be seen, and it is okay to feel scared. These feelings are valid, but it is not okay to not push yourself and not figure out more to your heart by ignoring it. Stop ignoring the depths of your heart and this time, as you read this pile, take some time and learn about who you really are. Yes, you already know what you want, and that is awesome, but who are you really?

Are you someone who cowers away from their wants? Are you someone who shuns themselves when someone voices their opinions? Are you someone who laughs at the cruel words but cries later? Are you someone who desires to be assertive and wishes they could gain the spotlight to voice their opinions or also help or motivate others? Are you someone who thinks it is okay to be seen? Or are you all of these people, depending on your fears and emotions, but never doing anything about it?

I believe it is time for you to become a shooting star, take charge of your life, and become happier for yourself. Because when you become a shooting star, and someone tries to bring you down, you are still going to have that light trail leaving everyone breathless.

Channeled song.

Dos Oruguitas - Sebastián Yatra

Masterlist

Pile II.

“It’s a wish, a beautiful, beautiful wish. My, my, you are such a beautiful star illuminating in the sky, dancing around me. Oh, for how I wish, no.. truly long for your touch-’’

Your beauty draws others, they crave your touch, your presence, yet it is never anything sexual. Your mind is their dream escape route, meaning they desire to escape the world only if it is in your mind. Your mind has an endless amount of doors to so many possibilities of fun, you can think of anything and instantly make it into something fun. You could write a one page book and instantly become rich with how rich your creativity and vocabulary are. Your mind grabs people's attention like a star would if it were displayed in a museum. However, this pile is not about you, but about your future spouse and how they see you as a star.

“When am I going to see you again? Let’s meet again, I really really miss you. I want to clasp our hands together, intertwine them, and feel your breath on my lips from the last kiss we had on our first night out. When can I see you again? You free? I want to hug you and tell you that I love you and we just met.’’

Have you seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? If not, I will keep the spoilers to a limit, but a lot of the kids fell into their temptations dealing with the consequences, and Charlie, a boy himself, never did because he was amazed by everything from his poor background. Your future spouse will be amazed only by you, everything around them will be ‘’their’’ temptations. Meaning, they will see only you as the perfect prize and meeting you is their golden ticket. Being with you is their prize, though not in a materialistic or objectified way. For them, it is from pureness and genuineness. You became their excitement; you made them see the world as how it should be with how bouncy and bright your personality is. You made them feel grateful for being alive, to experience things with you, to see the world how you see it, and-

‘’AND I WANT TO LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH THAT WHEN WE MEET AGAIN, I WILL FUCKING BURY YOU WITH ALL OF MY HUGS SO YOU CANNOT BREATHE, GOT IT? You are my shooting star and I want to love you, love you so very much. I want you to become my charm necklace; I want to make it have a star jewel like you. Thank you, thank you.. and thank you, god/gosh, I love you so much.’’

You open your future spouse’s eyes so very much that they feel comfortable being their authentic self. They have been reserved all of their life, feeling scared to open up about who they are because they are from a traditional environment, and that type of pressure has shaped their mindset into what they believe their gender is supposed to be in life. But you have lifted something deep and made them realize there is more to life and that it is okay to be themselves because they will still have people who love and adore them for who they are. So thank you, on my side, for doing that for them.

A lot of you actually relate to them on struggling to be yourself, and some of you still struggle, but remember, every single person is complex. There are more than eight billion people in the world, if everyone was the same, it would be boring. And sometimes boring is okay, and sometimes it is not. But, what is more important is for you to realize how special our quirks can be, and how beautiful we can be if we let it shine. So sometimes, you will not be bubbly and feel as if you wanted to be stoic, then do that. Our personalities are not shaped into one label or category of personality traits, and that’s it. If that was the case, then the word 'complex' would cease to exist. But it exists, and so do you—and your future spouse. Meaning, everyone is complicated and everyone will act differently and that is okay. And sometimes people do not have a lot of layers to themselves for whatever the case is, and that is okay too.

So, go ahead and be the star that you are, because at the end of the day, you can only be your own person, and someone else will be theirs. You are a powerful star that deserves to be loved by them, but also yourself. Ignore those thoughts of insecurities that rise, and push yourself to be a star for yourself.

Channeled song.

Dos Oruguitas - Sebastián Yatra

Masterlist

Pile III.

When you look outside to admire the night sky, or to see what time it is, you always see a star, or stars, twinkling near a moon, whether it is crescent or a full moon. And if you are lucky, you will see the moon shine brighter or become like a blur. But if people were lucky enough to really get to know you, outside of the reputation you hold or the mask you wore, they would see how many layers there are of you. One could say it is similar to a split personality, or others would say you would be a great actor. So would the star be compared to how many stars there are in the world. The real question is, what makes it more fun to hide who you are than let others see you? Is it chaos? Fear, shame? Or the fear of getting hurt again?

When a moon goes through a lunar cycle, it loses some part of its shape, and when you wear so many masks, you lose parts of your personality. But in this circumstance, you can never get yourself back, but the moon can. A star shines brighter, shows its beautiful side, but you cannot because you lose each spark from your personality.

A star and a moon are supposed to coexist, they are supposed to connect; you are supposed to coexist with all of you, flaws and all. Each part of your personality, down to the smallest details, is supposed to coexist. Why despise the moon part of your personality, the darker parts of yourself? Why hide this:

You are such an elegant and creative person. You are so incredibly perceptive, with a cold heart that focuses on logic and moves into the night like a shadow figure. You can solve anything quicker than most people, and you are so intuitive that you can guess any show character’s name or their motive. You move softly around others, surprising them and surprising them with who they are; some would call you a psychic or a therapist with how keen you are with others. In other ways, you are somewhat tricky but lovable, but around your environment, no one is like you, so you have always been the loner. Blending in with others is easier, and losing touch with who you are has made you feel sick about who you are, but at the same time it feels safer.

Why hide someone like this? It’s beautiful. You are beautiful. Your shadow self is beautiful. Your other side is beautiful too. All parts of you are beautiful.

The fear that lingers will be your downfall, do not let it consume you when you know who you are. Stop letting that fear eat you alive, and instead realize how beautiful your shadow self is. As well, as stop hiding it from you, allow those thoughts to be around you, because it is better to be all parts of you. Our shadow self is not what makes us evil, or in other words, a bad person as others have called you. It is what makes us, us, and that is rather a beautiful thing, especially to embrace.

It is time for you to embrace who you really are and let go of the imposter parts of you. My intuition tells me, ''if you do not let go of all the lies you put around you, whom you speak with, those who know the fake you, and the lies you tell yourself, you will go mad and lose yourself in the deepest parts of a void. If you allow others to know all of the fake parts of you, you will, in the end, lose all of them, and all that time spent and connection you made would have been for absolutely nothing. That pain will kill you further if you would have told them. And though, when you do, it will not blossom into something beautiful; you will lose some people, but those who are genuine and understanding will stay with you, and that is more beautiful than the forbidden fruit Adam and Eve ate. Would you prefer to be them and then be pushed onto Earth without the beauty of heaven, or is it better to become parts of a ripe fruit, and that is the only thing you wish to eat? Hear your inner voice and let go of everything. Start to respect yourself.''

Channeled song.

Dos Oruguitas - Sebastián Yatra

Masterlist

Pile IV.

A lot of people are drawn to the words “sun,” “moon,” or “star(s),” but no one is ever drawn to the river that glistens when the moon is out, when the sunset comes up or down, when the star sparkles, and sometimes you can see the shadow of it if you truly focus on it. No one truly focuses on the small details of the river flowing nicely each time so others can notice the greater gesture. No one ever thinks about the river the way others do with those words, and yet, the river is never bothered to let others shine so they know of their grand self. You are not bothered letting others shine so they can feel better for themselves, or if they already know, it does not bother you when they take the spotlight. Because you already know how special and great you are, and you do not need anyone’s validation or comments to boost your confidence. You are already secure about who you are, so why be any of those when you are the calming river itself?

You are someone who prefers to be in the background and to help others when in need despite what others think of you. You prefer to hide your grand gestures, allowing others to question why you would not want others to see the help you gave them. And though some people think it may be an act, you know it is genuine, and that is enough for you. Sometimes, you wonder if it would be better for others to know that you are, in fact, a nice and genuine person, maybe a little prone to being too kind, but at the same time, you know that others could use that against you, and it is better to go along with the reputation you built for yourself, ‘’heartless.’’ The people who know you well question that reputation and sometimes try to make others change their minds, but it never works, and you have already told them it is a waste of time. Because everyone will only see you as that, and when they finally get to know who you are, they will realize they are wrong and that is good enough for you.

You are someone who is already content with yourself, as mentioned, but with everything else. You already know that it takes a long time to change and to heal, or become better for yourself, because you were like everyone else. You used to follow the crowd or believe others about others, so in a way, it makes a lot of sense. Gossip can become addictive for others, until it comes back to bite them and they become the town's new gossip, or if it is with someone they care for. And for you, and the people you know, you are part of the bunch who strays away from the concept of gossip; you have surrounded yourself with people who care for you despite what others think, and it is something you pride yourself in (in which you should). But others think your pride is gross and do not understand the concept of what a healthy friendship and/or relationship is. The environment you grew up in, not a healthy one but rather very.. toxic, shaped you into becoming the same in your past, but as you realize how toxic and evil you became. You decided to change for the better and became a beautiful river that you were deep down inside your heart.

A river never changes, it always stays in the same location, may have others put something into it without the care of the river itself, but the only change is its color. The color of a muddy brown finally being cleaned into a transparent clear blue that calmly streams for the marine animals living in it, the land underneath the water, and so forth, yet it always tries to get rid of the unwanted junk inside. The same can be said for who you are; those unwanted junks are your intrusive thoughts and unwanted memories you try to push back into your past. And though it is beautiful that you were able to clean yourself out of that muddy brown river, it would be better to forgive yourself for the pain you have caused to both you and others, but also what had happened in your past. Because fully healing does not happen if the person does not forgive themselves, and you have changed immensely, so forgive yourself. It is not that you do not deserve to be forgiven (your thoughts), nor is it about being worthy, it is the thoughts of those you harmed, killed, abused, and so forth. And I cannot say what they should say, but all I can say is, “thank you for healing every day and becoming better as much as you can. Your change is incredibly beautiful and rather challenging to do, so you should thank yourself for it as well as learning to forgive yourself. Because that was a long.. long time ago, and instead of wallowing in the guilt (which is understandable), I believe you should accept what happened and use those lessons as an opportunity in your life as of now.”

Channeled song.

Dear Theodosia - Hamilition

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