#i might consider watching fit tho. his voice is nice to listen while doing other things

[slimeciclecock]

just finished my first ever fit vod ^_^ came for the mariana mention, stayed for his interactions with ramon

[ptergwen]

love is more than a word

w/c: a very ouch 3.6k

warnings: so so so much angst and an unhealthy (ish) relationship

summary: after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying

a/n: listen y’all i don’t know what came over me when i made this but i think it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever written? uh try to enjoy tho

-

you never thought this would happen, but you’re getting tired of peter. it isn’t your fault. that cliche it’s not you, it’s me line doesn’t apply here.

at first, you actually did find yourself believing the it’s me part. you’d came to the conclusion that you expect too much from peter. he goes to class, he works, patrols, sometimes parties, takes you out when he can. he’s got a lot going on for a full time college student, which is a busy life to lead on its own.

it’s why you don’t complain when he wants to spend the night in and order a pizza instead of cooking together like you’ve been wanting to try. it’s why every time your friends ask you two to hang, you have to reluctantly explain that peter is passed out at eight o’clock on a saturday.

there’s a lazy “wanna make out?” some nights, if peter isn’t yawning when he steps through the front door. even that has lost its enjoyment. kissing peter doesn’t give you the rush it used to, the taste of his strawberry chapstick not flooding your senses and intoxicating you. it’s become predictable. comfortable. boring.

peter is boring.

you’ve slipped into unspoken routine. say your hello’s, work on separate assignments in different rooms. peter eventually yells something like “babe, you hungry yet?” across the apartment, his passive way of asking you to make dinner. you usually order takeout because why make an effort if he doesn’t?

you might watch one of the ten movies peter has liked since before the start of your relationship. he’ll usually fall asleep during it. no surprise there. his overpacked schedule exhausts him, which you’ve talked to him about spreading himself too thin. peter is too nice and can’t say no, so this is where it leaves him.

the main reason you’ve stayed with him is that he can’t take care of himself. he’s clueless about paying the bills, sorting his laundry, simply remembering to drink water. peter wouldn’t be able to go a week without you. he even says it himself.

“crap, i totally forgot about these,” when you picked up his special ordered textbooks from your school library. “can food go in the garbage disposal?” a rare time you didn’t wash the dishes. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re literally a lifesaver,” whenever you do a task for him that someone in their 20s shouldn’t need assistance with.

you didn’t used to mind much. he watches over the city every night. you felt you should return the favor. spider-man could use some help, too. after the almost four years you’ve been together, peter has become completely dependent on you. it only got worse when you moved in together your junior year. you’re concerned how he’ll manage later in his adult life.

you’d think he’d be a little more passionate about your relationship considering how much he needs you. you know peter still loves you, of course he does. that’s not what the problem is. he’s become content with the mutual feeling, so he doesn’t try anymore. he expects the spark to keep itself lit.

no more random joke of the day texts that he used to send you. he stopped surprising you with your coffee order in the morning, the one that he memorized the first time you two went to a starbucks. what you initially found most endearing about peter was that he remembered every little thing you told him.

he put whatever energy he had into showing you that he listened. he’d do it all with rosy cheeks and that toothy smile of his. it seems now like he’s under the impression that being in a long term relationship means none of that matters anymore. there’s no need to impress you, keep you guessing, make you feel special.

tonight is your breaking point. as you go over all of this in your head while peter lays peacefully next to you, you can’t take it. you’ve been making so many excuses for him. you lie to yourself. you’re desperate to believe this is okay and normal and you can work this out, and you can love whatever version of him this is.

but, you can’t. you can’t do it. you need to tell him now because if you sleep on this, you’ll end up feeling bad and be stuck under these suffocating blankets forever.

“peter?” you whisper his name, your back turned to him in bed. you haven’t cuddled each other to sleep in a while. his arms don’t make you feel held now, they make you feel trapped. you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore his look of hurt when you reject his open embrace.

“peter?” you speak louder after a moment of silence, except for his occasional snores. a loud one escapes him before they stop altogether. his eyes stay shut as he mumbles out a, “uh... huh?” your heart is thudding through your entire body. you take a breath in from your nose. “i wanna break up.”

the breath you let out next is one of relief, those three words that have been scratching your throat for months finally out. peter slowly turns his head over his shoulder. he blinks rapidly at your motionless figure. you’re still not facing him.

“what?” is all he says. his voice is surprisingly steady, the confession not yet registering with his sleepy mind. his eyes are burning into you. “i wanna break up,” you repeat and squish your face further into your pillow. peter suddenly sits up, flicking on the lamp on his side. he tries to sling an arm around you. you move further away until you’re at the edge of the bed.

“i’m serious, peter. everything we had, it’s gone.” your words cut through him harder than literal knives he’s been stabbed with. “i- i don’t understand. where is this coming from?” he rakes a hand through his mess of curls. you turn onto your back, looking up at peter. his eyes are fixed on your lower half.

he’ll most definitely cry if he meets your eyes. he really doesn’t want to cry, not ever again when you won’t be here to make him feel better.

“it’s been coming,” you almost scoff at him as you prop yourself up against your pillows. peter’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “all we do is this.” you gesture to your bed, slapping your hand down at your side. “i get tired,” he speaks quietly, refusing to look at you. “i know you do, peter. i know, but you’d be a lot happier if you ever listened to me.”

your statement comes off as condescending to him. he works up the courage to look you in the face. “are you kidding? all you do is boss me around, and i take it. i’ve never once complained.” anger is coursing through his veins and voice. at the situation, that he’s about to lose the one stable part of his life. you’re getting pissed, too.

“that’s because you can’t do anything yourself!” you throw the blankets off you and swing your legs over the bed in one motion. peter hops out of bed entirely. “my whole life, i’ve been on my own half the time,” he spits as he comes over to stand in front of you. “sorry for taking you up on your offers to help.”

your peter would never spew that shit out. he wouldn’t guilt you for something he’s in the wrong about. this peter takes you for granted. he has no clue how fucked he’d be without you.

the first time you spoke to peter was on your way to history 227. you’d recognized him from your class, much more interested in the pretty boy taking notes with his tongue stuck out than whatever war your professor would lecture about.

he was carrying some books, a pencil case that didn’t fully zip, and a five subject notebook. you watched him do his balancing act through the halls until his legs started to wobble. a knowing smile on your face, you tapped his shoulder. it was a gentle one so you didn’t scare him and make all his things fall over.

“can i carry something for you?” you laughed out and pushed one of your backpack straps up on your shoulder. peter only stared at you, his doe eyes prompting you to reach for his pencil case. “uh, no, it’s fine. i got it. see?” he proved that to you by hiking everything up in his arms. he gave you a smile of his own.

“are you sure? we’re going to the same place,” you’d checked again and pointed at his impressive pile. “i’m not gonna steal your sharpies.” “really, i’m fine,” peter insisted with a heart clenching chuckle. “you can have one, if you want,” he offered and attempted to unzip his case, one handed. you put your hand over his to stop him.

“wait until we get to class,” you let go of him, leaving the tips of peter’s ears a shade of pink you’d later fall in love with. “i’ll sit with you.”

peter was once determined to do things on his own, to be self-sufficient. it used to be something he was proud of. now, he’s completely incapable of holding his independence.

“we’re done, peter.” your tone is short, you getting to your feet. “you’d probably forget how to fucking breathe without me, but call it bossing around, i guess,” you laugh bitterly and go over to your drawers. peter’s face falls as he grabs your wrist, stopping you when you pass by him. “where are you going?”

no answer. you pull yourself out of his grasp with your lips pressed into a stern line. peter follows you step by step over to the dresser. “wait, wait. don’t leave, baby. please,” he begs you, getting onto his knees beside you. you’re pulling random clothes out as quick as you can. a science t-shirt peter outgrew is in your hands.

peter used to give you all his old clothes. the signature smell of his cologne lingered no matter how many times you washed them. they kept you calm on nights he was out late patrolling or away on missions. peter would sport a smirk whenever you wore them out in public, pulling you closer to him and complimenting the look.

it started when he was packing for his first mission since you two had begun living together. he’d realized he became too buff to fit in some shirts. remembering how many times you’d giggle at their funny sayings, peter gave them to you. you threw one on and thanked him with a peck on the cheek. it became your tradition.

peter would set off for a new continent, but a piece of him would stay home with you.

the stretched out hoodies and ripped sweatpants just sit in your drawer now. another meaningful thing discontinued. whatever he doesn’t want goes to may for donations now. the memory of what they used to mean to you makes a fit of rage burst through you.

you slam down his ‘find x’ shirt in the space between his knees and yours. you’re on a mission of your own this time. you aren’t going anywhere until you get rid of all the stuff that went from him to you.

“y/n, don’t do this. i- i love you. i love you.” peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes. his vision is clouded while you toss more clothes to your side. “i love you, y/n/n,” he whimpers again, and this time you briskly push the drawer shut. the whole dresser shakes. this is the most emotion either of you have shown in the past few months of your relationship. it’s a little too late.

“love is more than a word, peter. you have to back it up with actions.” you’re doing your best not to cry. the memories of how loved peter made you feel play in your mind. he briefly wipes under his eyes and shakes his head. he’s so oblivious. “i thought i- i did.” “exactly, you did. you gave up at some point.” your voice gets weaker as a tear drips down your chin.

you didn’t plan on breaking down when you imagined this moment. part of you wishes you could give him another chance. most of you knows it wouldn’t do any good for you or peter. you’re not right for each other anymore. he outgrew some sweatshirts, you outgrew him.

that takes you all the way back to it’s not you, it’s me. it’s really both of you.

for the last time, you pull peter in for a hug. the two of you need this. he loops his arms around your back, keeping them loose around you as he tucks his face into the side of your neck. you’re a mix of tears and sharp breaths with your chin on his shoulder. you bring a hand up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of curls.

he sobs right into your ear, effectively destroying whatever composure you had left.

even though you’re not in love with peter, you haven’t stopped loving him. somewhere inside of him is the goofy boy who asked you out on a post-it during class. the kindhearted man who gave so much of himself to the world and saved enough for you. the one whose fingertips left goosebumps on your skin with every touch.

seeing him like this, having caused it feels like a dull pain rippling in every part of your body. you’ve been there to soothe him during countless breakdowns over the years. you managed to stay strong for all of them. this is the only exception. he lost people, felt down about life, made mistakes. you were there to pick up each piece and put them back together.

the one mistake peter made that you can’t fix is not loving you right. you became his rock, his anchor whenever he let grief and sadness rule over him. you’d get him back to himself. he could’ve at least bought you flowers once in a while, or done anything that showed his gratitude. every iteration of awful put together isn’t enough to describe how he feels.

“i’m so- i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i don’t deserve you. i never have,” peter murmurs as he cries, wetting your skin that his face is still pressed into. your fingers pull roughly at his hair. hot tears overflow from your own eyes. “i should’ve done more.” his voice cracks on the last word. “that’s all i wanted to hear, pete,” you breathe out and pull away from him.

“does that mean you’ll stay?” he croaks, arms still wound around your body. his eyes are hopeful when they lock with yours. a frown pulls at your lips. “only for tonight. i should... one of us should sleep on the couch.” “oh,” his voice is gravelly, so he clears his throat. “i’ll do it.” you’re not going to fight him on it for once.

peter removes his arms from your waist, you sitting back down on your thighs. you give him a blink and you’ll miss it smile because you can’t keep one for long. it’s to let him know you’re not mad. you were at the start of this conversation, then he took accountability. you also came to terms with the fact that the downfall of your relationship was a joined effort.

there are more factors than peter not giving you what he should have. time, different goals, new outlooks on life. you can’t hate only him because a whole bunch of things lead to this.

instead of a smile, since he physically can’t put one on his splotchy face, peter brushes the pad of his thumb over the corner of your lips. he gets up to leave the room, but you stop him with a “wait!” he freezes in front of you. you get out a hoodie from his pile of old clothes and stand up. “it’s cold.” you put it in his hands, earning a grin that he didn’t think was possible.

“thanks, y/n,” peter sighs and holds the hoodie against his chest. “goodnight. um,” this is the part where he’d usually say i love you. “sleep well, okay?” the replacement stings for both of you. you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without hearing that phrase first. as much as you didn’t feel it anymore, you’d become used to it. “you too, peter. night,” you say softly.

you head back to your bed while peter walks out the door. he glances at you once, and you’re already settling under the covers. he shuts the door behind him before finding his way to the couch.

your bed has always seemed too small. it’s gigantic without peter. you aren’t sure how you feel about that yet.

peter lays across the couch, the hood that doesn’t quite fit him pulled over his head. he’s only wearing it because you gave it to him. you doing that not even five minutes ago was how you backed up your love with actions. it’s so easy. silent tears spill from his eyes at the realization.

he wishes on every star that he could’ve figured out he wasn’t doing enough sooner. you’d be together right now, had he just caught on. there was a time he prided himself on knowing you fully and completely. how to turn you into the shy one with certain combinations of words, what your schedule was each week so he could plan his free time around it.

your relationship became something he thought would last unconditionally. if only he was able pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong.

you’re right in the other room. he can go in there and bawl, plead for you to take him back. how could he do that and claim to love you, though? you’ve made it clear you‘re over him.

the best way for peter to show you he loves you is by letting you live your life, without him in it.

-

you don’t see peter again for weeks. he moved back in with may, and you got to keep the apartment. you were the one who took all the care of it, anyway.

your semester ended at the perfect time because peter isn’t in any of your new classes. the city is too big to bump into each other. you’re free from the hold he had on you, which would’ve been four years long since yesterday. you’ve been good at picking up his broken pieces for too long, and now it’s time to pick up your own.

for all the hangouts you missed on his behalf, you made up for it. you called mj the day after your breakup and met for lunch. she never explicitly said it, but she took your side. peter had a feeling because when he had the same idea as you, to lean on his friends for support, she never reached out.

betty is indifferent, ned stays cordial with you. his real loyalty is to peter. you can’t blame him.

peter hasn’t been doing well since you broke up. he’s not eating enough, he can’t focus on work of any kind. you were right when you said he would forget how to breathe without you. he often wonders how you’ve been.

he finds out today.

you’re walking around campus, heading in the direction peter just came from. he has a class in the building your last one was. the two of you are on the same sidewalk, opposite sides. he almost doesn’t recognize you.

mj is on one side of you, a guy he’s never seen before with an arm around your shoulders. you’re all laughing about whatever dumb thing your professor said during the lecture. your hair, which is done in a new style, flows behind you in the spring breeze. a smile takes place on your glossy lips. the smile is directed towards that guy. your new boyfriend, peter assumes.

you look amazing, and not only physically. you seem happy with your small group of people. peter hadn’t been able to give you that happiness in years, so it’s nice to see you got it back somehow.

he must have stared too long because you notice him. you fall behind mj and your potential boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in discussing your next project. peter stops walking. you do the same. he’s not sure if he upset you, or what’s going on. his instincts tell him to apologize. his mouth stays closed.

that infectious smile of yours appears once again. you thought about peter yesterday, it being your anniversary and all. you’d only let yourself remember the good things. they outweighed the bad ones when you look back on everything.

“aye, grandma! get over here!” mj calls to you, your boyfriend nudging her side. “take your time, y/n/n. i’m not in a rush to write seven long ass pages.” you laugh to yourself at the two of them. peter fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. it’s from the drawer of things you used to wear. “one sec!” you yell back.

“hey,” you turn to face peter, who’s giving you a tight lipped smile. “how’ve you been?” “i’m okay. just, you know,” he shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. there’s a short silence before peter says, “you seem good. really good.” he smiles for real this time. “yeah, i am. i hope you are, too,” you tell him and genuinely mean it.

you’d like to catch up soon, but it’s not right yet. you both need more time. “i’ll see you around?” you’re already starting to walk, backwards so you can see peter. “uh, sure. bye,” he gives you a quick wave and continues on his way.

you get back to mj and your boyfriend, his arm returning to your shoulders. they waited for you by the stoplight. “what’d ya get up to over there?” he teases, mj suspiciously watching your face for any tells. you carefully think through your answer with a grin. “love.”

[cdroloisms]

Do you consider a possibility that c!Punz never betrayed c!Dream in the first place and whole "I'm sorry, Dream -- but you should have paid me more" thing was a facade and undercover for Punz? Like Dream said that Punz should not associated with him, so it was intentional-

staged disc finale theory my beloved !!! :D it’s definitely one of my favorite theories, though i’m still holding out (for now) as for believing super firmly in one direction or another (tho the staged finale is definitely the one i prefer for Many reasons, haha.) c!punz is so so fun no matter if the betrayal was intentional or not, but oh boyyyy if it was something planned ,,, man . 

*c!dream voice, after quackity starts visiting*: the risk i took was calculated, but man am i bad at math. 

anyway c!punz and c!dream interactions make me soft as heck so have this !!

tw: implied torture, abuse, violence, blood, injuries, emotional distress, panicking, dehumanization, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy mindsets, illness, trauma, flashbacks, starvation mention, suicide mention, death mentions, dark content, dark imagery, prison arc/pandora’s vault themes, c!quackity critical/dark portrayal of c!quackity

Dream comes to in vague moments and flashes. 

There’s a hand brushing over his forehead, too gentle to be Quackity or the Warden, not Techno because Techno is Gone and he has Left and won’t come again, running through the sweat-soaked locks and pulling them back out of his forehead. He’s unbearably hot, shifting around on the ground, only barely registering it moving beneath him. Water, cool and clear, is tipped in between his lips, quenching his thirst and easing the dryness of his mouth. Someone speaks, voice low and rumbling, and even though he’s unable to make out the words, there’s something about the cadence of them and the specific rhythm in which they move and rise and dip that is bone-achingly familiar, enough to lull him into a fitful sleep. Through it all, there is always something, someone, lingering in the edges of his vision, a shadow standing near and watching over him; part of him remembers Quackity, remembers the Warden, and recoils in fright; another part of him remembers Techno, remembers the barest flashes of a life before obsidian and lava and pain and hell, and wants nothing more than to get closer. 

When the fog in his head finally clears away enough to think, the first coherent thought he has is oh fuck, I need to piss. 

Which, out of all possible things to think, is probably up there as one of the worst, and he’s sure that when his head feels a little less like it’s trying to actively kill him (ha, let it- it’s far from the first to try) the panic will settle in as it always does. As it is, he’s exhausted, and hungry, and he really really needs to pee- so he forces his eyes open to move away from where he’s probably still stuck in a puddle of dried blood in the middle of his cell.

The second coherent thought he has is this: this isn’t Pandora. 

The realization has him thoroughly awake, eyes snapping open out of his previous fatigue to take in his surroundings, feet kicking out to the weight on top of them that he hadn’t even noticed was there, panicking against his restraints that end up not being restraints at all, giving way easily under his thrashing and resolving to what appears to be a thick blanket when he has the mind to look. With the covers gone off of whatever he’s lying on (a bed?) he’s suddenly, unbearably cold - the prison has always been hot, the lava baking into him and leaving his skin sticky with sweat, and he thinks that the room he’s in is probably not meant to feel like a fucking freezer, but after months of being one wrong step away from heatstroke, anything cooler than the goddamn Nether feels like literal ice against his skin. The room is wooden and cozy and oddly familiar, an open door leading to what appears to be a bathroom and a closed one going who knows where, window panes built into the opposite wall to let the sunlight in. It’s a nice room, all things considered, and Dream fucking hates it. 

He pulls himself to his feet, cursing at the wobbly edge to his stance when he finally manages to stand, his vision wavering dangerously in time to the spinning of his head. His eyes flick between the two doors - he still needs to go to the bathroom, and using it now will lessen the amount of things to get in the way of his escape in the future - but at the same time, there's no knowing when people will come to (hurt him, beat him, starve him, punish him, leaving him bruised and bleeding and half-dead on the floor just as he deserves) him and he needs all the time he can get to get the hell away. In the end, he slinks into the bathroom, ignoring the thudding in his chest as he does so - at the very least, the cabinets in the thing might provide him with some manner of a weapon. 

He’s only just past the door on the way out - a fucking broomstick in his hand because it’s all he could find - when his ears catch on the sound of metal clicking against each other and his eyes fall on the knob of the other door shaking as someone makes their way in. All at once, panic slams into him - goddammit, he should’ve just run when he had the chance - and he directs quick, desperate glances at the window. Maybe, if he’s fast enough, he can book it out of there and disappear into the trees; it’ll hurt, but it’ll be better than getting caught. Anything would be better than getting caught-

 “Dream?” 

Dream blinks. All at once, the same feeling of getting the air punched out of him returns, but combined with something warm and floaty wrapping around his chest, something almost a little like relief - and hell, if that isn’t something he’s not felt for a while. 

“Punz?” 

Punz is standing in the doorway, hoodie rumpled, expression more than a little frazzled; Dream’s breath hitches at the sight of the sword strapped to his side, but their face holds none of the harsh edges and cold-dark-hard hatred that had characterized the Warden and Quackity’s visits, mouth slightly parted and eyes shining with nothing but what appears to be shock and concern. The sight of them, again, nearly has Dream dizzy, a swell of tangled, unexplainable emotion rising to the back of his throat as he sways on his feet. He hadn’t thought that he would see Punz again, he realizes, had never thought he’d see his stupid gold chain and his stupid outfit he never bothered changing, ever, or that same lopsided smirk and pale blue eyes- the last time he’d seen them, it was in that vault, their mouth twisted up in the act the two of them had decided on and eyes shimmering with unease and regret; as far as goodbyes went, it wasn’t the worst, not when Punz was one of the few to never leave him, not really, not when something ached in their expression other than the hatred that had colored all of the other expressionless faces watching him die. Months later, alone in Pandora, he must’ve grown resigned, or something, the repeated reminders that he would die alone and afraid and it would be nothing more than he deserved settling into his skin and against his bones; Punz’s expression twists, visible even across the room, and- oh. 

They must’ve thought the same thing, too.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Punz asks, finally, and Dream decides not to point out the way his voice cracks harshly in the middle, especially when the other man strides forward and starts to awkwardly herd him back in the direction of the bed - covers still thrown to the floor - in the middle of the room. Dream lets them, not replying because he doesn’t really know where to even begin describing the tangled knot of panic and shock that had strung his muscles tense when he woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, not knowing if he can really describe it all at all, trying his best not to flinch at the hands flitting in the corners of his vision as he falls back into a sitting position onto the bed. His fingers settle into the mattress, pressing into the bedsheets cautiously and marveling when they fall away under the pressure. Punz watches him, expression odd, gathers the blankets from the ground and presses them over and around him in a way that’s entirely awkward but does leave him warmer than he’d been before, before walking back on his heels with an odd expression that makes Dream’s insides twist. 

“You,” Punz says after a long second, voice wavering, “are a fucking idiot,” and it’s all the warning Dream gets before a white-and-black blur is rushing towards him, arms wrapping around his chest and his vision whites out in alarm and panic. When the pain doesn’t come, he comes back to his senses enough to realize that Punz’s arms are still wrapped around him, shoulders shaking as he holds him close but not painfully, careful not to pull too much against the places on his ribs and back that leave him gasping with small shocks of pain, head pressed against the crook of Dream’s neck and hair tickling his face. Dream can feel his heart hammering in his chest, but as the panic dies something warm and long-neglected stirs in the middle of his chest, and he melts forward with a quiet hum. This is- nice. Really, really nice. 

“What were you thinking?” Punz mutters, too quiet to really be directed at him, hands curling tighter into the folds of the hoodie - oh, he’s wearing one of those, not the same stiff, bloodstained material of the prison uniform that had chafed against his skin, another constant source of pain and discomfort of thousands in the hell that had been Pandora’s Vault  - on him, and Dream doesn’t really know what to do except sit there and blink dumbly, listening to the heartbeat of the person leaning against him rumbling against his ears. It’s oddly calming, has the pressure on his chest lightening enough to take a full breath, and then another, the warmth of someone leaning against him almost too much but not enough at the same time - his eyes burn, and he ignores them. 

“I-” he doesn’t really think that Punz was really asking a question, but just ignoring his question seems rude, too, and even despite the fuzzy warmth settling into his skin and into his bones from the pressure of Punz’s arms around his body and their head against his shoulder, he’s still unable to shake the anxiety of leaving a query unanswered, a constant murmur to listen obey do as you’re told or you’re going to regret it put on a damn good show or suffer the consequences remaining no matter how hard he tries to push it away. He wets his lips when his mouth feels too dry to keep speaking, eyes fluttering closed as he leans forward further, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You-” Punz cuts themselves off with a wet, incredulous-sounding laugh that has Dream jerking back despite himself, meeting their ice-cold eyes when they pull themselves back to look at him. He doesn’t really recognize the expression he wears, Dream realizes with a jolt, the way his lips are pressed together and the churning in his eyes, and his lungs seize in his chest. 

“Sir-”

If anything, Punz’s expression only seems to harden, and the warmth disappears as Dream looks into their eyes - cold, two polished shards of ice, frosted over pools of water in the middle of the tundra, flinty and sharp and brilliant blue. His hands shake as he pulls them back to his chest, trembling from the chill that’s made its home in his muscles and frozen them in place - sir sorry sir please don’t hurt me im sorry please I didn’t mean to

“Fuck, Dream,” he shakes his head, and only then does Dream see the slight wobble to their bottom lip, the waver to their words like they’re struggling to keep themselves together, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

 What?

You almost died, you know,” he keeps going, not meeting his eyes as they direct their gaze out the window, “Several times, honestly. Fucking hell- when Techno brought you out- I didn’t think you would survive. I didn’t think anyone could survive that.” 

Dream swallows. He doesn’t remember getting out, doesn’t really remember much at all if he’s being honest; there was the black of the cell, the heat of the lava, Techno promising to get him out before disappearing in a flash of purple, Quackity throwing him against the wall (Where the fuck did Techno go? You better have a fuckin’ answer, pal, if you want your death to be anything resemblin’ quick-) then nothing. Everything. His heart hammering in his chest and blood slick against his skin and the press of metal against his windpipe and pain, the only constant within it all, the only thing that made any goddamn sense when the room seemed to flip and turn and twist and his feelings knotted and frayed between anger-betrayal-distress-sadness-fear-grief, when reality swirled into a dizzying blur of colors and feelings and sounds carving themselves into the inside of his skull- then here. Dream flexes his hand experimentally, marveling at the feeling - the pain is almost gone. 

He’d forgotten how it felt, really, to live and not hurt. 

“Dream,” Punz calls again, voice low and worried, and Dream can’t help the way his head snaps up to meet their eyes and can’t help the flinch that twists his neck back when their frown deepens. It’d been a show, at least he tells himself, because Quackity would stop earlier if he screamed more, but- his hands tremble at his sides, twisted into the sheets of the bed, a near-constant litany of reminders and rules beating like they have a heart of their own in the back of his head. It was a show- he feels himself almost buckle, give in under the force of the stare leveled at him, and hates himself for how weak he feels, pinned under the eyes trained on his own. He’s not sure how much of a show it is anymore. 

“Dream,” Punz repeats, words even softer, and the ugly feeling of shame and anger twists inside Dream’s chest again. Punz- ever unflappable, deadly with almost any weapon and never letting anyone see him as anything but deliberately apathetic - is watching him with an expression so uncharacteristically and unbearably gentle that it makes his breath catch in his throat. “You could’ve died,” he says once again, and the look that paints his face is so terribly vulnerable, feelings pouring over like a cup overfilled, bubbling forward and bleeding from every corner, and Dream- can’t. He doesn’t know what to do in the face of such stark emotion, doesn’t know how how to handle the way his eyes burn and his heart throbs like an exposed nerve, the way everything yawns wide in the middle of his chest into void and emptiness and pain so deeply carved in the space within his ribs that he half-thinks he’s been hollowed out entirely.

“But I didn’t.” 

Punz pulls back, but Dream isn’t looking at him, is staring at the scarred surfaces of the backs of his hands and the knobs of his knuckles sticking out against the thinned-out skin and the yellowed nails he’s pushing against the blanket, the fourth and fifth ones of his right hand missing. They shake, no matter how long he looks at them and how hard he tries to make them stay still, and he can feel a voice whispering in the back of his mind, tone too familiar to ignore. Weak. 

“I didn’t die,” he says when Punz doesn’t reply, looking at his scarred hands, weak hands, broken hands. “So it’s okay. We can keep- we can keep going.”

“Dream-” their voice is a blade scraping against an anvil, nails scraping over his ribs, his hands clamping over his ears before he’s realized he’s moved and his brain screaming at him for doing so once he realizes that he has, “-what the fuck are you talking about?” 

Still, he hadn’t survived months of Quackity’s visits by bending over the second he was pushed, so he forces his tongue to move from where it’s fallen to the bottom of his mouth like lead, feels his eyes go steely even from under the way his vision has already begun to wobble. 

“It’s not over yet,” he continues, trying to keep his words even, “‘cause I didn’t die, so we’re not done. I gotta- we have to reevaluate, of course,” he can’t stop, because the second he stops talking is the second he falls apart, so he ignores the way that Punz stiffens and stills and doesn’t let anything stop the flow of words spilling out of his mouth, “because the vault and the prison- um, obviously didn’t go as planned, but it’s fine. Just a minor- um, minor inconvenience. A setback- but it’s not- it’s not unsalvageable- we just have to-”

“Are you kidding me?” Punz cuts him off with a sharp laugh, disbelieving and just on the wrong side of desperate, and the air in Dream’s lungs freezes into a solid block of ice in the middle of his chest, “you- you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Punz?”

Dream’s voice comes out small, himself shrinking back into the bed, keenly aware, suddenly, of how there is nowhere he can go to run - Punz doesn’t seem to notice that he’s spoken at all, one of his hands moving up to tug through his hair, which is - now that Dream is looking - fluffier and messier than he remembers, sticking up in all directions like they didn’t bother to smooth it down.

“You think this is fine? You think that because you didn’t fucking die, that this is all okay?” Punz’s voice rises in volume slowly, not loud enough to be a shout but enough to go hard and unyielding like a threat, and with each word every remnant of the vault comes crawling, clawing back up to the front of his head, a pounding reminder to play his role, put on a show, behave behave behave-

“Goddammit, Dream,” Punz startles him out of his own thoughts, looking straight into his eyes with their ice-blue ones, “have you seen yourself?”

 Have you seen yourself? Lying down in your own goddamn filth like a fucking mutt- prime, you disgust me. 

“Your ribs were basically shattered. Your legs had fractures on both sides, and your back was so fucking torn up that it looked like more blood than skin. You’ve been starved- enough for me to see every goddamn bone in your body, it feels like. Your throat was bruised to hell- I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be able to speak again, fuck, and like a day after we got here you got fucking pneumonia.” Punz’s breath hitches, “Your skin was a literal fucking oven- I thought you’d bake yourself from the inside out. You could’ve died- you should’ve died.”

 You should’ve died a hell of a long time ago, pal- should’ve saved us all the fucking trouble and offed yourself like Wilbur fucking Soot.

He flinches, and this, Punz seems to notice, eyes widening a fraction before they pitch their voce lower, clearly taking a few breaths to calm down and reaching forward to take one of Dream’s hands loosely in his own, thumb smoothing over the bumps of his knuckles. 

“You’re not fine,” he says after a long while, shaking his head. “Hell- I’m not fine. But we’re not doing anything like- like the vault or the prison again, dude. I told you they were shit ideas- fuck. We never should’ve done that.”

“It was worth it,” Dream butts in, because he can’t imagine a world where it wasn’t, can’t imagine a world where all of that was for nothing, “it was worth it-” 

“No it fucking wasn’t, are you out of your mind?” Punz replies immediately, voice overlapping over Dream’s own, “have you listened to a single thing I’ve said? You- look at you! How was that worth it?”

Dream shakes his head stubbornly, already feeling the way his jaw is trembling around the words he forces himself to speak. “The server- it was all for the server-”

“Fuck the server!” 

Punz seems startled by their own shout, drawing back at the same time Dream does, breathing ragged. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, bringing his hand to his face as Dream sits stock still, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Fuck the fucking server, okay?” Punz says, finally, voice cracking in the middle, “You lost two damn lives for this server. You got fucking tortured for fucking months for this shitstain of a server. Just- fuck them. I’m not watching you tear yourself to fucking shreds for this- not again. I can’t sit around and watch you fucking die again, Dream, I can’t drag you out bleeding out in my fucking arms again- fuck-” Punz shakes their head, and oh. They’re crying. 

“No more. Fuck the server. I’m done, Dream- we’re done with them.” 

Dream blinks, so thoroughly surprised that he thinks the shock knocked him straight out of the building panic attack, leaving nothing but a slight thrumming of anxiety still simmering beneath his skin. Almost instinctually, in a motion he doesn’t really remember but still has the muscle memory for, he opens his arms- and in a similar, near-unconscious response, Punz tumbles into his arms. 

He blinks, not moving his arms to curl around the other, feeling the weight of another person against his again and the sound of their breathing and relearning them both. This is- new, for both of them. Dream was never emotional, not before the prison, not that he wanted to be after it either- but Quackity always had a particular affinity for tearing him apart, shard by shard. And Punz- he’d never been like this, even back in the day, when things were easier and they didn’t bear the constant burden of netherite against their backs. They’d always been stoic, sharp, sarcastic, cool and dry in a way that chafed against Sapnap’s fire and always led to Dream laughing at them sooner or later. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling the heat behind his eyes finally sear too hot and boil over, tears squeezing through his closed eyes and falling down his face. 

“Okay,” he says, finally, and there’s nothing easy about the acquiescence, not when he had poured blood and sweat and the better half of himself into this place, salted the earth with his tears until no more would come and nothing else would grow. He thinks that he will have more to think and more to say and more to protest come the next days, that the binds between him and his goals have been weaved too deep with the fibers of his soul for him to tear them free without sacrificing what broken pieces of himself he has left, but all he can think right now is how fucking tired he is. He remembers Techno’s voice, going through myth after myth to pass time in the prison, and thinks with something like humor and something like grief - let someone else be Atlas for a day. The sky is too heavy right now. Punz’s arms tighten around his body, enough to remind him that they’re there but not enough to press at his still-healing ribs, and he thinks that they might understand. “Okay.” 

[lokemikaze]

RETJ: 2001 vs 2010 vs Hungarian

so it's 4am and i just finished watching the hungarian Roméo és Julia. considering i have in the last week watched the 2001 french Roméo et Juliette thrice (plus working on english subtitles) and the 2010 french revival once, i need to shortly sum up some thoughts before going to sleep. i'll try to keep it brief (tho who am i kidding)

2001, original french cast:

i found this, like so many others have done, through Les Rois Du Monde after being hooked on it for months on end. instantly fell in love (in an ace way) with Damien, who makes such a good Roméo. voice: amazing. bless the boie. i also love Juliette in this one, Cécilia's voice fits perfectly with Damien's. the costumes, which i've seen many say are tacky, are imo kinda endearing. bonus points for having (again, my opinion) the best nurse and Benvolio. also Benvolio running around like "omfg Romeo everyone's always sending me to find you" while Romeo goes "go awayyyy i'm being gloomy and mysterious" is the most accurate relationship ever. nailed the teenage mood

2010, french revival:

aaaah, my boie Damien is back. without the hair - saddest death in the entire musical :c i'm not fond of the new version of Tu Dois Te Marier, as i find the original to be quite a bop. overall, i think the song quality/voice strength isn't as good as the 2001 version, but the acting is better! sparkly costumes are a plus, as is the beautiful intro to Les Rois De Monde - i've listened to that one several times after seeing the entire thing, and the whistling part always gets to me. i'm a little bit on the fence about Mercutio. i know everyone love John Eyzen, and while i love the Aesthetic, i'm uncertain about the character? while in the original, he seemed tough but loving, in this one he seems... plain crazy. which, i mean, i love me some crazy, but i can't decide if it adds to his character or takes away from it. Joy is slightly more emotional as Juliette, but i don't feel like she sings as smoothly as Cécilia

2005(?), hungarian version:

hm. a very strong hm. i know this one is many people's favourite, and i can see why. the acting is quite good, and let's be honest: the rough aesthetics are a mood. also, fire. funnnn. i'm not that fond of the singing, tho, especially Romeo's (tho his best one is Mort De Mercutio - he shines on those high notes). i suspect it's mainly the language, which feels very harsh to my synesthetic brain. i also feel like the entire musical was shifted to be more sexual. the translation of Les Rois Du Monde had me both laughing and crying, bc honestly, what did you do to my Child. the energy is consistent, and a nice change from the french ones, even tho places like Le Chant De L'Alouette i caught myself thinking "woa, chill out". the punky, edgy look is def a mood, and while not everyone's cuppa tea, worth seeing. the added dialogue and songs were interesting. i feel like i learned things about the characters that i didn't learn from the others. fascinating to repeat both On Dit Dans La Rue (the repeat of which is FIERCE. they don't mess around) and J'ai Peur. overall worth seeing, but probably my least favourite of the three.

i'm def gonna watch them more (i have plans to watch 2001 with my partner once i'm done subtitling, and i feel like i need to watch 2010 again to get a better grasp of Mercutio), so i might end up making a follow-up to this ramble. if anyone wanna nerd out about this musical, please hmu, as i need someone to rant to who's actually seen it. if you're a friend of mine and haven't seen it, hmu and i'll give you the link to the subtitled vid once it's done. please. you won't regret it.

[oh-beyond]

Saviour AU - Part 6

He wasn’t rich like the others, he didn’t really fit, but he was part of the group, the rich boys that had investments in one of the biggest companies in the country, they were powerful and handsome and they could get anything the wanted, money had corrupted their every day actions, money that Byun Baekhyun didn’t have, to what extent was he like them?

You were lucky enough to be delivering the coffee every morning, you just wanted to see him, and to see him meant seeing the others too…

You had faith that he was different… just don’t trust him too much he might surprise you, and not in a good way.

Business AU/Angst/Smut in future parts.

Baekhyun x Reader ft. Chanyeol, Chen, Kai & Lay (Mentions of EXO OT12)

Masterlist

Saviour Masterpost

< Part 5 - Part 7 >

Summary: Xiumin made a move on you that was hard to block, Chanyeol will get disappointed, and so will Baekhyun, the only one that mattered...

It felt nice, weird and extremely out of place but nice, he was warm and comforting you almost forgot D.O’s incident and his impoliteness.

“Shhh, now tell me more, did someone bother you?”

You detached yourself hesitant and nodded “yes”

“Who? Tell me I’ll make him or her pay, no one bother’s my girl”

My girl... hmmm... okay...

“It was Do Kyungsoo-ssi- I don’t know...”

“You want to talk about it? I will bring him here and make him apologise, I swear I don’t care, even if he is my partner or whatever, what did he do?”

“It’s alright now Minseok-ssi, I’m glad to know that you watch over me, I appreciate it”

“Come on I’ll take you home”

“It’s not necessarily”

“I would never let you go home alone like this, let’s go”

Xiumin secured his arm around you opening the door, but of course Chanyeol was in the little waiting area outside Xiumin’s office, Kai had told him about the strange day swap request, he didn’t feel at ease, something rubbed him the wrong way when Kai told him how desperate was Xiumin to swap their days, and the view just confirmed his thoughts. He saw how close you were to Xiumin, how comfortable his hand rested on your shoulder, he felt that it should be him who should be doing that and not anyone else. 

He saw your puffy eyes and as an impulse he placed his index finger under your chin making you look up at him to see your tears closer, it was awkward, he never acted like this in front of anyone, and this would look like you were closer than what you really were.

“Come on Chanyeol-ah, she’s alright now, nothing to worry about, just some work stress, I’ll take her home and tomorrow she will be like new”

“I will take her hyung” said Chanyeol firmly looking at you all the time.

“Alrighty, is that OK ___?”

You moved your face away from Chanyeol’s hand nodding, however you did prefer Xiumin to take you home, you needed that feeling of an older brother right now and not a frustrated jealous Chanyeol.

Chanyeol linked his hand in yours and moved faster to take the elevator alone, Xiumin just snorted watching how Chanyeol pulled you to his side.

At the elevator you pulled your hand away from his grip.

“Why? Why don’t you let me in?” he demanded, his voice higher than normal.

“Chanyeol-ssi, I am not in the mood right now, I had a very rough day today”

“Why can you open up to Minseok hyung and not me?”

“Nothing happened, I was just frustrated and a few tears-”

“He had his arm around you!”

“He’s like my brother”

“Then I guess I could hug you too right?” 

Chanyeol came closer and wrapped his arms around you with that statement as a warning, he was desperate, he hugged you so tight that it made it difficult to breath, he was much taller and your face was met with his strong torso.

“Chanyeol-ssi! Please!”

“Just hug me back, is that so difficult?”

It wasn’t until you stumped on his foot intentionally that he came back to his senses, he moved away from you not believing what he just did.

“Oh my god, ___, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, please forgive me, I was just trying to be nice”

The door of the elevator opened to the ground floor, you sprinted out but Chanyeol stopped you again running in front of you.

“Please, please just hear me out, I really didn’t mean it, look at me, you think I would ever want to harm you in any way? I’m so stupid! Please hear me out!” desperateness in his tone of voice.

Xiumin was enjoying the little show his friend was giving watching the scene from his CCTV screen in his office, he undid his tie taking his drink in hand while he laughed.

“So naive Chanyeol, so impulsive, no patience at all”

Xiumin’s office door knocked.

“Come in bastard what did you do to the poor girl?”

D.O entered with the same face expression of giving zero fucks “I just simply asked her if I could kiss her”

“You will never change, I should of guessed that one” laughed Xiumin loudly “I will show you how it’s done tomorrow, she’s hurt and vulnerable and she trusts me”

D.O came next to Xiumin watching the scene Chanyeol was causing at the reception through the screen.

“He’s really is into her, he’s never acted this way”

Xiumin kept laughing.

“But listen hyung, did you know she’s a lawyer?”

“A lawyer? Really?”

“Yes, her pride really itched and she told me before leaving my office”

“I wonder what made her accept my proposition and why she was working as a barista before, we should be more careful, she didn’t seem that good of a lawyer when she didn’t read the small letter in the contract I made her sign, this is more entertaining than what I thought it would be” said Xiumin his gaze fixated on the screen as his laugh muted tapping on his desk. 

There was a huge queue in the cafe, you and Saehyo couldn’t be more busy that morning, it was absolutely insane, the coffee machine working non stop, there were a group and new trainees and a group from China coming today and they took their break at the same time.

“Good morning ___” you heard his deep voice, behind you.

You turned around and saw Chanyeol fixing an apron at his waist wearing the cafe’s uniform.

“I will take care of the till, go do something else”

Well this proposition, you weren’t going to deny it, not today, you nodded and went to make the 12 coffees that were awaiting as Saehyo struggled on the flavours you asked her to serve the cupcakes and the sandwiches instead.

After about 40 minutes finally the cafe was back to normal, you finally released a loud sigh.

“Thanks Chanyeol-ssi, you didn’t have to...”

“I wanted to, I hope we are good now, we didn’t speak yesterday after what happened”

Saehyo was suspicious of something and she was happy that obviously Chanyeol was trying to make you sway, keep you busy from consider Xiumin, her love interest.

“Unni, I will go deliver this to Minseok-ssi, I will right back”

As Saehyo took the tray she was met with Minseok at the corridor.

“Minseok-ssi I was just going to deliver this” she said shyly.

“Can you please pack this take away and make another one for ___?”

“Take away?” gulped Saehyo.

“She was very stressed yesterday she needs a- wait why do you look so sad?”

“Nothing Minseok-ssi, I will do it right away” Saehyo’s shoulders sank going back.

“Wait come here!”

Saehyo turned back around meeting Xiumin’s sexy gaze, his eyebrow raising licking his upper lip, he opened the door to his office asking her to get in.

Once she was inside he followed her closing the door behind him securing the lock, he took the tray she had in her hands placing it in the small tea table. Saehyo looked and her feet playing with her hands shyly.

“Is my favourite princess jealous?” he said pulling at Saehyo’s waist, she couldn’t but giggle “is she?” he continued.

Saehyo covered her face out of embarrassment.

“She shouldn’t because she is my favourite babydoll” he added, his lips connecting to her forehead “you know you are my only one don’t you?” he said after planting an open mouth kiss near her sweet spot.

“But then-”

“I have to, someone crossed the line with ___ yesterday and as I am the one who brought her... I have no other choice, I’d rather be here eating up my tasty princess” 

Xiumin lifted his head and planted a loving kiss on Saehyo’s lips, she soon complied and her arms were thrown around his neck deepening the kiss, he welcomed it groaning his tongue invading her mouth electing a soft moan from her, he smiled into the kiss looking at her.

“So wild, just like how I like it, but now I have to go, you will wrinkle my suit, I prefer when the suit is peeled off tho, I wish- how about I see you again when everyone is home? Wait for me hm?”

“Yes oppa”

“Good girl, now go do what I asked you to do, I’ll go clean your lipstick from my face, damn you taste so good”

Saehyo took the tray giggling Xiumin squeezed her butt cheeks winking at her before she left, he did really like her, he wished this whole thing wouldn’t affect or reach Saehyo in anyway.

After Xiumin cleaned himself he went out watching how Chanyeol drooled over you, Xiumin didn’t recall doing all those things with Saehyo, or any girl for that matter, he thought that you really were hard to get or maybe you had someone else in mind, one of the guys maybe, but who? Maybe you liked him? Xiumin laughed at himself at the thought, he was very confident about himself.

When Xiumin arrived at the cafe Saehyo had already told you that you had the rest of the day off.

“But how!? The customers!”

“I’m the only customer that matters, have you filled a thermos with ___’s divine coffee Saehyo?”

“Yes Minseok-ssi!”

Chanyeol had muted completely, his hands were tied, he did this mess, he agreed to it, he just didn’t know how painful it would feel when he actually saw you leave with one of the guys.

“It’s your treat ___, for taking care of all of us everyday, especially me”

When you removed your apron leaving it on the counter where Chanyeol was leaning you saw it in his face, the pain, he was breaking your heart, he looked utterly broken, but if he only knew.

Day 3: Encounter with Xiumin

“Where are we going? I feel like the all the employees are thinking weird stuff”

“Don’t mind anyone, forget about everything, whenever you are with me just forget about any worry, you are with Kim Minseok right now!”

As you walked towards his car he told you he had forgotten something at his desk, he thought of giving Saehyo one last kiss to reassure her, he opened the car for you and asked you to go in before him.

You walked towards the impressive white car a little too happy, it showed in your face, you smiled to yourself thinking how lucky you were to have a boss like that.

You didn’t expect Baekhyun to get out from the car parked next to Minseok’s, he wore black shades, all black outfit, his hair looked so soft being blown by the light breeze, his hand running through it making him look like the king of the world. You stopped walking when he saw you, you gasped as if being caught for doing something wrong, he had that power to make your heart sink to your feet in a second, he utterly owned your soul...

“Happy are we? Although I heard you were upset yesterday, how are you this happy in less than 24 hours? You are nothing like I thought you were, just remember, if you hurt Chany-”

“Stop it, stop bringing him up every time you see me, I don’t belong to him!”

“Such a pity, here comes who will make you happy again, have a nice day ___”

“Baekhyun-ssi!” 

But he kept walking, them words, felt like Baekhyun just stabbed you, was he just plainly upset for his dear friend? You wanted to believe something else... 

“Ready ___?” 

“Yes Minseok-ssi”

Xiumin took you to a botanic garden, how unusual, it was peaceful and there were flowers and butterflies everywhere, there were squirrels and all sorts of birds, you walked faster than Xiumin, your smile ear to ear, it was the perfect plan, nothing too obvious, Xiumin knew he will get at you this way.

“Would you like to sit in this bench for a while ___? We walked a lot”

You sat next to him, unexpectedly he leaned closer taking you by surprise, you didn’t know what he was doing, you placed your hands over his chest pushing him slightly going backwards closing your eyes.

“It’s a butterfly, it was on your hair”

You opened your eyes and saw Xiumin with a butterfly on his hand.

“Everyone loves you, even butterflies ___”

You felt really bad, he was being super cute and you just thought that he was just like Sehun or D.O, not all men were like that, he’s done nothing but being a gentleman with you.

“I kind of envy Yixing and Chanyeol, even Jongin, they got to see you when you were in school, I bet you were very cute”

“I saw all of you but you didn’t notice me, I was at the convenience store after school, and I saw you at the park”

“When I used to play football with Luhan?”

You nodded your head.

“How I never knew any of this? There must of been a reason for you to know us, was it me?”

“Huh? No I just... I used to go with my friends, you just happened to be there, I mean all of you”

Your tone made Xiumin sure that you had a crush on one of them, you just gave it away...

You had a lot of fun with Xiumin, the day was amazing, he opened up to you and you felt like you did make the right decision in joining his team, apart from being close to Baekhyun, your boss was the best in the world.

He took you home before it got dark...

“Thanks for today Minseok-ssi”

“If we are alone just call me oppa”

Silence.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and went to open the door.

“But wait”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t feel it?”

Your face expression changed, you knew there was a catch, you questioned whether you had casted a spell on the men in this company.

“I feel like we would do a great team, we share things, we are comfortable with each other, you make me happy, not only the coffee, I really think that I am the happiest when you are around”

“Oooh aaam I think I should-” you tried opening the door several times but it was locked “can you pleas-” when you looked back at him he was in front of you, you felt his lips land on yours, he detached himself to look at you and kissed you again.

“No no no! What are you-”

“It’s enough for me now, I know you felt it too”

“No I can’t no no”

“Not now, we will talk about this tomorrow”

“Minseok-ssi, I didn’t- no this is not-”

“Good night ___”

“And you recorded it? How didn’t she sense your phone was recording? Well played hyung!”

“You kissed her without her permission, a kiss by surprise doesn’t count” said Baekhyun tapping on Chanyeol’s back, he was fuming, his breath heavy and audible.

“She didn’t push me away” added Xiumin with a proud smirk.

Chanyeol got up kicking at the chairs in the large meeting table, he was like a wild bull all the guys tried calming him down but he was uncontrollable.

“I think we should stop this, see Chanyeol-ah? These are the consequences of this foolish game, we are stoping this” shouted Suho loudly making Chanyeol stop his nonsense.

“No! No we are not, maybe she’s a gold-digger bitch, let me disenchant myself, don’t stop this, let’s take a break today and continue tomorrow”

“Yah! Why is my day always getting pushed back?”

“Shut the fuck up Kai!” said Suho with an annoyed tone.

You were wondering why you didn’t see anyone today, no one appeared, you didn’t receive a call from Xiumin, or a visit, nothing, and where was Chanyeol...? And Baekhyun?

At the end of your shift you decided to check on Xiumin, tell him that you had no interest in him, apologise if you gave anything away that he might of taken as an invitation to accept him.

You walked passed the offices stopping at Xiumin’s door, something unusual caught your ear, the noises coming out from his office, it was Saehyo... yes it was her, your feet took you forward at the door and that is when it was clear in your ear.

“Oppa~~~ oppa~~~”

“Stay quiet babydoll, don’t make me gag you”

You covered your mouth as you gasped loudly, so loud that they might of heard you.

“Wait someone is outside” said Xiumin.

You tried tiptoeing your way to the elevator that was at the end of the corridor but just after 2 steps the door opened.

“___? What are you still doing here?”

“I-was-not-here”

“You weren’t? You are now tho”

“I have to go” you run away scandalised.

“Yixing-ssi?” you called out through the phone, crying hysterically.

“___? What happened? I swear I’ll take a flight and punch them all”

But these promises were too familiar...

_______________________

A/N: Oh Minnie, so naughty, who do you think is next? 

Feedback is always appreciated, thanks for reading ^_^

[thedanceofblades-blog]

you had to walk into mine

// Closed and already completed with @swordwithoutsheath; just transferring it over from Google Docs in honor of Sunday. Here there be smut. And Mario Kart.

Katarina is a creature of habit. She shows up at the same coffee shop at the same time every two days, and she gets the same thing from the same barista. If the same barista’s flutist brother is there, she sticks around for a few minutes to listen, but that's the only real variable.

Today, she arrives early. She gets the same thing from the same barista, yes, but she actually sits down afterwards.

Yone gives her a suspicious look from behind the counter, but says nothing. She grins at him as though he had.

Honestly, she doesn't know if Yasuo is even going to be playing today. He did have a late night, after all—

(that moment of recognition, the pause after:

“This isn't… weird, is it?”

A sharp-edged smile, a dry voice just loud enough to hear over the music. “Do you want it to be?”)

—and no one would really blame him for wanting to sleep it off. But she hopes he'll show up, because he was flustered and cute and she has nothing better to do.

There's a nagging little voice that sounds an awful lot like Riven saying she probably shouldn't be trying to meet anyone outside of work that she met inside of it, but she technically knew him before (sort of, by name and Yone’s talk about him only), and also fuck it.

Mostly the second thing. Riv worries too damn much.

Yasuo is—well, to his credit, he's not so hungover that he can't drive, which means he's not so hungover he can't play. (Yone had left water and painkillers at his bedside, as if he knew exactly what his little brother had been up to the night before. Yasuo tries not to feel a prickle of shame at the thought.) So here he is, a flute case in one hand and a frankly massive water bottle in the other, wanting nothing more than to crawl back home and into bed and forget last night had even happened.

No such luck.

Right when he walks in, right at the two-person table near the door, ten feet from the stool where he plays, there she is. Oh, god. Yasuo isn’t sure if it’s the leftover regret of breaking his streak or the sheer discomfort that comes with the knowledge that the girl looking up at him over the lip of her coffee cup was giving him a lapdance not eight hours ago, but his stomach clenches and turns a little.

And here he thought that being hungover would be his biggest problem while playing.

To his credit, Yasuo is as polite as ever as he takes his place, nodding and bowing and smiling to everyone—including her—before he gets started.

The lights in the Bunny aren't exactly the best in the world, so she didn't get to see him blush last night. It's cute. He looks a little bit ill, but he's still cute.

Kat kicks her legs up underneath the table, resting her feet on the opposite chair to observe. Yasuo keeps his eyes either closed or away from her, which is a little disappointing, but she guesses she can understand. Some people give a shit about their dignity, or whatever it is that gets violated upon realizing that you know your stripper's real name.

(Not that it's that different from her stage name, but still.)

She watches his fingers. Damn, she thinks—and then realizes how long it must have been since she last got laid if she's getting fixated on them that easily. But it has been a while, and Riven can't give her too many disapproving looks because she knew him from before, okay?

Katarina stays until he takes a break. Her coffee's been gone for a solid five minutes, but she doesn't care so much about having an excuse to be there anyway, so it doesn't matter.

"Figure I might as well come watch you at your work," she says cheerfully as he goes for his water. "Return the favor."

Yasuo doesn't think he's blushed quite so hard since...

Well, since last night, honestly. He nearly spits out his water, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as if that will cover up the near-miss spray he almost hit her with, coughing around the throatful of water that just tried to jump into his lungs.

He wonders, with some horror, if she's literally trying to kill him.

"I, uh—fuck—" Yasuo interrupts himself with another cough, holding up a hand until the fit subsides. "I hope you liked it," he says, feeling more sheepish than he has any right to.

Beat.

"Uh. In--not in the same way that—goddammit." Well, this is definitely not the most successful conversation he's ever had.

It's been a long, long time since she got someone to do that. Maybe never, since the kinds of people who showed up at her workplace were usually a little more unflappable than this.

Of course, this wasn't exactly the Bunny now, and their conversational turn was a little different when she wasn't carefully three-quarters of the way naked on his lap. But whatever.

"Who's to say I didn't like it in the same way?" Katarina asks, all sly triumph, fingers fluttering on the side of her empty cup.

Yasuo can't really envision a universe in which someone would pop a boner listening to him play the flute of all things, but—well. Weirder things have happened in his life. He feels himself blushing a little harder regardless.

"I mean, I guess it's—it's possible, but—did you?"

That was definitely not the question he wanted to ask, and he certainly didn't want to say it in such an almost squeaky tone. Fuck his entire life.

Oh god. Oh god. That's adorable. That's the kind of adorable that makes her want to get out of her chair and squish him.

Katarina tilts her head, leaning her cheek on her hand, mischief glinting in her eye. "Maybe," she drawls. "If I said yes, would you check and make sure?"

Okay, the answer is no, because she's nowhere near frustrated enough to consider a musician doing musician things to be on the same level as porn. But this is more fun.

Yasuo's brain just sort of... flatlines for a solid three or four seconds. His jaw falls open and stubbornly stays that way for the duration, making him look like a blushing moron in front of this dangerously attractive woman staring him down.

Fuck.

"'m technically on the clock," he finally manages to stammer out. Good save, Yasuo. Good fucking save. Now she probably thinks you're an idiot. "Maybe later."

...He's not sure if that's any better.

Yeah. Yeah, she does think he's an idiot. But in a good way.

"Yeah?" Kat says, pointlessly hiding a laugh in the rim of her empty cup. "I'd tell you to buy me a drink first, but I guess you already did."

She at least has the decency to not say that part too loudly when the poor guy's brother is right there and knows what she does. Yone doesn't mind taking other people's bra money, but it would probably feel a little more awkward if he knew that some of it was his sibling's.

"I'm Kat, by the way," she continues. "Since we haven't been properly introduced yet."

Yasuo's mouth stays very, very dry no matter how much water he tries to drink, so he just... he just gives up on that. It's probably a side effect of the hot redhead coming onto him in a coffee shop of all places.

God, his life is weird.

He caps his water bottle, since it won't do him any good anyway, and clears his throat until he's confident he can actually talk again.

"Yasuo," he manages, and his voice doesn't crack or falter or even squeak a bit. "Nice to, uh... meet you."

Katarina almost considers going for a sarcastic handshake, but she's fairly certain that Yasuo could short-circuit at any moment. (She's not even doing anything to him right now. This isn't that weird, is it?)

She gives him a smile, a little nod of acknowledgement. "You too," she says with restrained mirth.

Katarina usually leaves receipts to languish in her pocket until the laundry melds the paper with the fabric, but she reaches into her pocket to pull out the one from the previous hour, stealing an abandoned pen from the next table to scribble her phone number on it. Because her life has reached that kind of point, she guesses. Life is short and he's hot.

Or something like that.

She folds the receipt into an actual, monetary tip, because she hates the people who consider flirting to be tipping just as much as the next person and she can only assume that a musician with no official etiquette has it worse than her, and she flicks it across the table in the general direction of Yasuo's chest. She misses, but the paper bounces off of his shoe, so that's close enough.

Kat gets up out of her chair, collecting her cup. "Now we're even," she says, and she turns to leave.

~*

4:27 PM hey

4:27 PM this is yasuo

4:27 PM flute guy

4:28 PM uh. fuck. is this even the right number?

1631 hope it is

1631 depends on if you wanted to talk to me or not

4:32 PM ...

4:32 PM you could start by telling me if i'm right or not

1632 depends who youre trying to talk to

1632 :)

1633 this is kat. lol.

4:33 PM ちくしょう

4:34 PM you nearly gave me a heart attack

1635 want me to make it up to ypu

1635 and what does that say

4:35 PM 'goddammit'

4:35 PM ......dare i ask what you mean tho

1636 ill have to remember that one wont i

1636 feel like ill be seeing it again

1637 what do you think it means?

4:36 PM lmao, probably

4:36 PM well

4:36 PM considering how you were talking at the shop

4:37 PM something you'd put in overtime for

4:38 PM .....that wasn't a dick thing to say was it

1639 lol

1639 almost smooth. you dont talk to many strippers do you

1639 anyway i fuck for free. anything else is illegal

4:39 PM i try

4:39 PM sometimes i succed

4:40 PM *succeed, even. fuck

4:40 PM good to know i guess :p

1640 you suck sometimes? glad i ran into you

4:43 PM ......

4:43 PM not sure how to respond ot that

4:44 PM give me a minute to think up a decent comeback

1646 two minutes

1646 got anything?

4:47 PM ......nope

4:47 PM kat 1, yasuo 0

1647 damn right

1647 what do i win

4:47 PM ...

4:48 PM ; )

1648 ...go on...

1649 really dont leave me hanging here yas

1649 i have plenty of ideas if youre out

4:49 PM your ideas are probably better than mine anyway

4:50 PM shoot :p

1650 i wouldnt be so sure

1651 wouldnt say no to some role reversal of the other day

1651 but if you cant dance im sure we can come up with something

1651 strip mario kart?

4:51 PM you really don't want to see me dance, lol

4:52 PM .....explain the rules first, then we'll talk

1653 like strip poker but less boring

1653 whichever one comes behind takes something off

1653 ...lol

4:53 PM at the end of every lap or every course?

4:53 PM wanna be sure i understand the rules 100% before i commit

1654 depends how many tracks were playing

1654 amd how many layers you have on

1654 im not picky about how fast you lose to me

1655 and if you run out of clothes too fast we can always bet other things

1655 im also flexible on what those things are

1656 ... ;)

4:55 PM you know what they say about assumptions, kat

4:55 PM i am pretty damn good at mario kart

4:56 PM though i don't mind a bit of high-stakes gambling now and then :p

1656 is that a challenge, fluteboy?

1656 i like your ass anyway

1656 something tells me the feeling is mutual

4:57 PM ......you havent even seen it

4:57 PM (...yet)

4:57 PM and since its hot out, maybe by the course is better

4:58 PM that way it isn't over too soon :p

1658 dont worry yas i wont judge you for that

1658 we all get too excited sometimes

4:59 PM lmao

4:59 PM if you can manage to get me THAT excited over mario kart, i'll give you a dollar

5:00 PM .......or is that illegal

1700 think it's just betting at that point

1700 maybe give me a candy bar or something instead just in case

1701 when are we doing this?

5:01 PM good call

5:04 PM i'm free most evenings, so

5:05 PM you tell me

1705 well

1706 im free now and yesterday

1706 and the same next week

1706 mostly work evenings obv

5:06 PM you make a compelling argument

5:07 PM where do you live

5:07 PM and shoud i bring snacks/?

1708 edgeview, building closer to the school, 405

1708 and i wont sayno

1708 ...depending

1708 but ill try anything at least once

~*

Katarina throws on a shirt and comfortable pants after tossing her phone to the side, just in case Yasuo was living next door the whole time and can show up in thirty seconds. After a moment's reflection—she's sure she can beat him, because she's sure she can beat most people, but it might be close enough for her to want more than the minimum number of layers for decency--she hikes her shirt up and puts a bra on underneath it.

No socks, though. She doesn't want to look too prepared.

Yasuo doesn't really bother with anything fancy—after all, the whole plan is to just tear it all off one way or another anyway and god he can hear Yone silently berating him even as he climbs into his car—; just a clean pair of jeans, boxers, sandals, and the nearest clean T-shirt he can grab on his way out the door.

And a baseball cap, but that's more because it's sunny out than any sort of precaution. He's confident in his Mario Kart skills.

Finding the place is easy enough, thank heaven, as is bringing up the bag of miscellaneous snack food he picked up on the way.

Knocking... that's the hard part. This is a bad, bad idea. If he were thinking, he'd just drop the bag by the door and go back home, and then he wouldn't have to disappoint his brother when he walked back in their door.

...

He knocks.

Okay. Too long for him to live downstairs, but he's close. She'd assume the dorms if not for Yone... hmm.

Not that it really matters too much. Kat pushes herself off the couch, swinging the door open and grinning up at him. (God, he's taller than she thought. She hadn't really looked when he wasn't sitting down.)

"Hey," she says, stepping back to sit on the arm of the couch. "I hope you're ready to embarrass yourself."

God, she's short. He'd noticed that, somewhere in the back of his mind, in the coffeeshop, but... God, she's short.

Yasuo hoists the bag of miscellaneous junk food into the air, flashing a lopsided grin that shows much, much more confidence than he's actually feeling about this whole endeavor. He follows her inside, yanking the door closed with his ankle and dropping the bag on the couch cushions before following shortly after. "Please," he says. "Even if I don't kick your ass—which I will—I've got nothing to hide."

...That came out simultaneously better and worse than he had hoped.

Kat swivels on the couch arm, fingers quick to tug the plastic open to examine its contents.

Its contents are very colorful. They are also all labeled in Japanese. Unhelpful.

"Red one's mine," she says, nodding at the little basket of controllers as she grabs for the remote. The television flares into life with a fuzzy click. "I don't care about the other ones."

Yasuo helpfully empties the bag, picking out his favorites and laying them out in a row. The others he'd just sort of assumed she'd like, since he had no idea if an American stripper would be particularly fond of うまい棒. (He loves the stuff, so the bag is almost a third full of it.)

"I can tell you what everything is—if you want," he adds. Kat doesn't seem to be the sort to shy away from unfamiliar experiences.

The only other choice of controller seems to be black or blue. He takes the latter. "Ready to get your ass wrecked?"

...That was also the best and worst thing for him to say. He's on some sort of roll here.

Katarina picks up one of the packages he'd arranged. The picture denotes something round and pleasant-looking, maybe with powdered sugar involved; it's hard to tell.

Katarina raises an eyebrow at him. "On the first date, Yas?"

Yasuo raises an eyebrow right back. "We're playing strip Mario Kart," he points out dryly. "Not exactly a traditional first date by... anybody's standards, 's far as I know." Although who knows; Kat might just be weird.

He picks up his silently claimed controller and one of the うまいぼ, putting the latter between his thighs to unwrap it. "My brother is friends with the guy who owns the Asian market," he adds by way of explanation for all the Japanese food he's brought. "We get honorary employee discounts."

Kat nods approvingly. "Smart," she says, as if employee discounts are the only reason anyone would befriend a grocer.

She runs a cursory eye over Yasuo's attire. He took his shoes off already for some reason, leaving him about as clothed as she is. Worst-case scenario, the main part of the game would only take about seven courses (six, if he went commando).

...She set it to go through all of them anyway.

"Not traditional," she allows, "but I don't have to trust you to play strip anything with you." Kat pulls her hair out of her face and starts flicking through the characters.

Yasuo isn't sure if he's meant to laugh at that last remark. He does anyway, because it's kind of funny either way. God, where is his life going if he's started laughing at stripper humor?

He's just... not going to think about that, because otherwise he can hear Yone's berating voice in his head and that's the exact opposite of sexy.

Once he chases his brother out of his brain, Yauso quickly flicks to Luigi, because anyone who doesn't love Luigi is wrong.

"So," he says, taking a bite from his うまいぼ while he cycles through the vehicles, "aside from this—" he nods towards the screen—"what do you do with your downtime?"

This is the weirdest place to have a normal conversation. Not that that's going to stop him.

She almost, almost picks Toad just for the psychological warfare, but it isn't worth the speed hit. Daisy instead, then, just for the sheer hell of it.

"Besides this and bothering musicians?" she corrects him, lounging back on the couch as the first course loads. "A little of everything, I guess. You?"

Katarina nearly runs him off the road through sheer determination on the first curve. It sets both of them behind, but it's worth it.

"Used to do a little of everything," Yasuo says, biting off a chunk of うまい棒 before the course loads all the way in. Around the mouthful, he continues: "These days I'm stuck at college, honestly. 's amazing how much of a timesink that shit can be."

And that's about as much as he can say about himself without making himself balk. God, no wonder he hasn't had a date since he came to this country.

Katarina's lips pull into a secret smile. "I studied astrophysics and aeronautical engineering," she says, just to be a dick. "I know what you mean."

Not that she finished. But she doesn't have to tell him that.

He pulls ahead of her before a lightning strike hits. She pulls a face; might be a little more evenly matched than normal.

But that just makes it a challenge.

—holy shit. All right then. It occurs to Yasuo that he's even more out of his depth than he'd originally thought.

"God, now I feel boring," he says with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm just studying music."

One of the 'bots sets off a squid, and Yasuo makes a strangled noise of annoyance. Not that winning or losing, in this instance, is a bad thing in either direction, but god, he's too competitive for this shit.

"You're cute," Katarina says. "You don't have to be interesting." (She grins afterwards, just to make sure he knows she's teasing.)

Yasuo is just a little too good for her to feel safe just chattering away, so she focuses on the game for a little while. On the third lap, as soon as she hits the longest straightaway, she—very quickly—leans over, kissing him in the hopes that maybe it'll make him wipe out somewhere.

Yasuo snorts. "Oh, believe me, I don't think I'm boring," he says. "Just my major. You have to be at least a level fifteen friend and pick all the right conversation options before you unlock my tragic backstory, sorry."

When she falls silent, he does too, eyes and focus narrowing until his mind is solely on the game. So much so that, when he feels her lips against his cheek, he honest-to-God doesn't notice for a second. When he does, he starts, glancing over at her in confusion—

—and falls straight into the drink. Fucking Lakitu bullshit motherfucking—

He watches her kart rush past the line and peels out of his shirt in a huff.

Katarina takes several seconds to examine the results of her ill-won victory, a smile spreading over her face.  (Turns out fluteboy doesn't look bad half-naked. Who knew?)

"I don't know how that's going to work, Yas," she says. "I'm used to being the mysterious one with the sob story. I've even got the scars for it."

...Huh. Come to think of it, she wonders if he'd even managed to see them all—the lights in the Bunny aren't exactly conducive to noticing details, and Yasuo wasn't exactly looking too observant at the time. Oh well.

She turns sideways on the couch, draping her legs over his lap as she starts the next round.

Yasuo stretches a little for her, trying not to look too smug. There's something very flattering about being ogled by a woman who's paid to look good.

"Who says we can't both be?" he counters. "Not every scar's physical, you know."

That unexpected bout of deepness out of the way, Yasuo turns his focus back to the screen—or tries to, because suddenly her legs are stretched across his thighs and no. If she thinks she can use her feminine wiles to make him suck at Mario Kart twice, she's got another thing coming.

"Nice try," he adds, glancing at her sidelong.

Very nice. He should put that on a shirt.

"I don't know what you mean," Kat replies as innocently as she can. "If I were trying, you'd know." But since he can apparently be distracted—or at least startled or confused—by a kiss on the cheek, she doesn't think she'll have to really try all that hard.

The starting horn sounds. As soon as they pull far enough ahead of the bots for her to feel safe splitting her attention, she speaks again. "So what, we take turns brooding and being mysterious?"

Yasuo snickers. "Seems fair to me."

...god, he's starting to feel a bit nippy already. A part of him (the part that's thankfully getting a bit louder now than his own brother's concerned voice in his head) hopes that they start doing something a little more heat-generating soon.

(Fuck, this was a mistake.)

"Gotta say," he says, trying to ignore the goosebumps her air conditioning is causing, "I'm honestly impressed that that's what you studied. 's the sort of shit that always went right over my head."

Katarina nearly overcorrects her turn in protest. "Yasuo," she says, mock-stern. "Just because my father is MIA doesn't mean I need you to make dad jokes for him." Honestly now.

She sneaks glances at him every time there's an opportunity to do so without crashing. Sure, she'll probably be able to actually look at a lot more of him than just his chest if this goes well, but... still. It's the principle of the thing.

...Yasuo is just going to pretend that he meant that to be the most brilliant joke he's made in months, rather than just a happy accident in his second goddamn language. He grins broadly, giving a theatrical shrug.

This, unfortunately, coincides with a lightning strike followed by a red shell from one of the 'bots.

And a fuckton of a lot of swearing. He falls behind horribly, and all the determination and gritted teeth in the world do little to save him.

It's an awful way to lose, but all Yasuo gets is a sympathetic wince. Partly because he jerks to his feet and starts peeling his trousers off before she could even think of any other reaction, and that's just a little bit distracting.

Yasuo, Katarina is quickly realizing, looks very nice. "Wouldn't have pegged you for a flutist," she says, half to herself and without really realizing she's talking.

She doesn't know what her mental image of a flute player looked like, but it didn't coincide with the mental image of someone who knows what the inside of a gym looks like, somehow. (Although it's not like violins and strippers mesh in her mind, either, so she should really have known better.)

Yasuo gives her an absolutely baffled look for that comment. "What's a flutist supposed to look like?" he asks, all cool gone in face of total confusion.

Maybe he's just good-looking enough to have startled the sense out of her somehow. Not that that's likely, given her profession and how many men (and women, probably) she sees on a nightly basis, but... hey. A guy can dream.

"You're gonna lose one of these times," he mutters, shifting in hopes of keeping back the chill.

She folds her legs back over him as soon as he settles in. "I don't know," Kat says. "Scrawny, maybe." Honestly, she has no idea.

It's been a while.

She starts the next round, partly as a challenge to his last statement and partly to redirect the conversation away from how her brain has stepped away from the controls in celebration of the (presumptive) end to her dry spell.

He wins. She's not even entirely sure how he wins; nothing particularly catastrophic happened to her. He just ends up in front of her and nothing she does stops it.

"Hm," Katarina says thoughtfully, and pulls her shirt off without ceremony.

Yasuo snorts and rolls his eyes. "Flutists go to the gym too," he says. "Y'know. When we have the time." Between the café and classes, he doesn't usually. But he tries, dammit.

All thoughts of arguments briefly vanish in the face of Kat in actually decent light, all pale skin and pronounced curves and goddamn Yone is going to be so—

No. He's not going to think about his brother right now. Cross that bridge later. The current bridge is the slight arc of Kat's spine, causing her ribs to leave slight shadows in the cold light of the television. Yasuo forces himself to stop staring, though not before the sheer volume of scars across her sides hits brain and he starts to wonder, despite himself.

"So," he says, partly to distract himself and partly to distract her so he can win more than just one race by the end of the day, "do you do strip Mario with all the boys, or am I special?"

"I could teach you how to dance," Kat says. "It doesn't take long once you get used to it." She's selfless, really.

She bites the inside of her cheek as she considers her reply, grunting her displeasure as she swerves away from a star-powered Wario straight into a green shell. "No one's seen me naked outside of work in a couple of years," she answers. "But don't worry. I'm not so desperate I lost my sense of taste."

He's relentless, sticking close to her, targeting her as specifically as he can with everything he can get ahold of the second she starts to catch up again... which never takes long, because they left the bots far behind midway through the first lap.

No one should be turned on by someone else's Mario Kart skills, and yet here she is. Katarina almost doesn't care when he zooms over the finish line first. Almost.

She leaves her pants untouched, reaching up to unclasp her bra and flick it at him in the hopes that maybe breasts will be more distracting than legs.

...It's colder in here than she thought it was. And Yasuo's eyes keep flicking between her and the screen and if she's feeling chilly than he must be feeling worse, right? There's no harm in continuing this later. It’s the selfless thing to do.

She breathes, biting down on her bottom lip before putting her controller on the back of the couch and sitting up. Yasuo jerks a little as she moves to straddle him, but it doesn't seem to be in protest.

"Call it an intermission," Katarina says, angling her hips and pushing down, her hands on his shoulders. She smiles into something that's almost a kiss. "Show me what you wanted to do to me yesterday."

—well then.

Yasuo has already gone this far. There's no reason to beat around the bush anymore, right? (Unless she's into that.) He puts his controller down on the arm of the couch, hands immediately moving to her hips, trying not to squirm under her at the sudden pressure. Shit, it's been too long.

"Wouldn't have thought I'd ever see the day," he says, kissing a line down the side of her neck, "that someone would get hot and bothered playing Mario Kart." First time for everything, he supposes.

He stops at her shoulder, frowning at the friction every time one of them shifts. There's still way too much fabric in this equation.

"You really want to see?" Yasuo asks, fingertips slipping (barely) beneath the waistband of her panties.

His mouth is soft and his stubble is scratchy and they both leave tingles in their wake. Kat's eyes are lidded, a lazy smile on her face, a shiver jolting down her skin as his fingers tuck themselves underneath her remaining clothes.

She very much likes what his voice does when it's quiet and challenging, she decides. (And she doesn't, as a rule, turn down challenges.)

"Mmhm," she answers. She laughs, arching her back to press closer to him. Her breasts graze his skin, just barely. "I'll try almost anything once. And you don't look nearly crazy enough to want the things I won't say yes to."

Really, though, the guy should work on his phrasing. If she didn't already feel like she had a good read on him, she would have worried he was using this as a lead-up to ask to shit on her or something.

Yasuo bites down on his lower lip, a lopsided smile crinkling his eyes. "I wouldn't worry about that," he tells her. "I have a rule—don't do the weird stuff until the second time." (Frankly, the question was less one to ascertain how kinky she is and more one to ensure she actually wants this. But hey, good to know.) "Makes it easier to get a feel for the other person, you know?"

He turns her, pushing her down onto her back on the couch. Her pants are quickly removed, and he starts to kiss a line down her body.

For a split second, Yasuo considers getting up and muting the television just so the end-of-race music will stop, because it may be the least sexy tune ever. But there's a gorgeous redhead under him, and he's gotten this far... He can deal with some cheesy music for a while.

Kat snickers again, wriggling against the cushions to try and get comfortable.

She wants to make a clever reference in return (because honestly, that was not among the fandoms she'd've assumed they shared), but what actually comes out of her mouth is: "I wouldn't mind getting a feel for you."

Which is possibly the corniest thing she's said in her life, and she will not apologize for it.

She exhales, watching him as she reaches down to pull the tie from his hair and brush her fingers through it. As he keeps trailing kisses down to her stomach, she internally laments her choice of underwear—not because Batman is ever a bad choice, but because it's very thick and comfortable cotton and she won't be able to feel as much until he takes them off.

Which will hopefully be soon. Kat squirms a little, her knees falling a little farther apart. (So he has more room on the couch between them, of course. She's just being considerate.)

Her controller slips off of the arm of the couch and drops onto her shoulder. She bats it away.

Yasuo has to draw back for a second, just to give her a Look for that line. "Now I'm not so sure about this," he says dryly, but he's quick to contradict himself by bending down again and kissing her pulse. His hands start to trace the lines of her body, enjoying the smooth warmth of her skin.

The controller clatters to the floor, which startles Yasuo a little, but he recovers quickly enough. And hey, he's already mostly tuning out that end screen music. Progress.

"What do you like?" he murmurs.

Her eyes are closed, her body slack against the couch excepting the tension under his hands as she moves into his touch. Katarina strongly suspects that part of her might be melting at the question.

Fucking charmer. She's keeping this one.

"Uhhm," she says. He's still wearing his hat. She takes it off because it's just unnecessary and she can't do much about his underwear from here. "Just--keep touching me." Katarina reaches for him, her fingers tracing muscle and tendon and bone, exploring him in turn. She can reach the waistband of his boxers, she finds, but not nearly as far in as she'd really like to.

"I take the lead enough at work," she says suddenly. "I like having it taken back."

Within reason, but she's not interested in the intricacies of language just at the moment. She cranes her neck and manages to get at the space between his shoulder and his pulse, kissing it, biting a small mark where it's easy to hide.

Oh, he can work with that. Yasuo turns his head slightly, giving her better access to his throat. A quiet sigh passes his lips—contentment and relief after so long in an empty bed. (Or couch, as the case may be.)

He kisses a line down from the hollow of her throat to her navel, glancing up and flashing a wicked grin. His fingers trail down her ribs to her hips, until his hand is braced comfortably on her thigh.

Is he waiting for encouragement to continue? Is he teasing? Is he just being a little shit? The answer is yes.

Katarina happily takes advantage, exploring his neck with her lips and tongue until he moves too far down to continue.

Not that the loss hits her too hard given where he ends up. She looks down at him—flash of heat at his smirk, the hollow feeling between her legs deepening—and she waits for just a second to see if he's going to do anything else.

He doesn't. A muscle in her thigh twitches under his palm.

"What," she asks (and no matter how hard she tries to make her voice sound irritable it refuses to do it), "are you waiting for an invitation or do you need me to explain where everything is?"

"Oh, I've been around enough to know where everything is, don't worry," Yasuo tells her with a snicker. He kisses below her navel, shutting his eyes as he inhales the scent of her. (There's nothing all that poetic about it; nice soap and the general smell of her apartment linger on her skin, with an undercurrent of something he can't quite put words to. It's something he won't admit he missed about... this.)

It takes a hell of a lot of scrunching, but Yasuo manages to position himself (mostly) comfortably between her thighs. With a sultry look that he hopes doesn't betray what he's about to do, he purrs "いただきます" and promptly gets to work before she can react.

She's heard that before. She's heard that before, but her underwear is finally off (okay, dangling from one ankle, but that's close enough for her right now) and maybe flutists are a repository of innuendo for more than just fellatio or maybe she's just incredibly wound up but the instant he ducks down she stops being able to think for a few seconds.

"Oh," she gasps. And then, when she figures out where she knows that phrase: "oh god you didn't just," and then a breathless and hitching laugh.

Terrible joke or no, Kat shudders, trying to grind up against his tongue. A low sound rises to her throat and she bites her lip on it, returning one of her hands to his hair and experimentally giving it a gentle tug.

Yasuo chuckles, though he doesn't move back at all, keeping his focus (mostly) on Kat and her pleasure. It's been a while since he's done this, and he's out of practice, but he still remembers a few tricks.

One hand reaches up, massaging her breast while the other keeps hold on one of her thighs, and he groans quietly, letting the sound rumble against her skin.

She wants to say something. She wants to say something clever and sexy and encouraging, something that could adequately convey how incredibly fucking glad she is that he showed up in the Bunny and was cute and wasn't weird about anything, and that he proceeded to take everything else completely in stride.

None of her cooperates. Her eyes slide shut, her spine arching awkwardly as she tries to move closer to his mouth and his hand at the same time. Kat does manage to wrestle her throat into submission, but only gets a hitching whine out before it closes.

Her leg slips sideways in her bid to splay out for him as much as she can, her heel thunking off of the couch entirely.

And onto her controller, where it had managed to skitter away out of reach.

The endgame music cheerfully replaces itself with the fanfare announcing a new round and Katarina curses, trying to sit up before realizing how very much she can't.

...oh, fuck. Yasuo jumps up, letting go of her and scrambling as fast as he can to grab his own controller. "Next time we do this—" this extremely specific thing that he never anticipated doing, let alone enjoying this much—"I may have to tie you up before we actually start anything. I don't want to lose on Rainbow Road because I'm too busy eating you out," he says dryly.

Though that would make for an interesting game for them to play. One of them plays bots while the other... distracts them. He might just have to suggest that after they're done with this race.

She misses the initial speed boost by grabbing the controller too late, but so does Yasuo, so at least there's that.

Katarina's laugh is raspy and uneven as they round the first corner. "Most people wouldn't consider that losing, Yas," she says. "But if you really want to tie me up, I won't stop you."

Internally, she revels a little (a very little) at next time.

Neither one of them is playing as well as they ought to—Wario actually ends up in first place for a few seconds, much to her consternation—but it's still frighteningly close. She wins, sort of, but she really only pays enough attention to that to realize that it gives her some kind of permission to take the rest of his clothes off.

But she pauses the game first this time, and she puts the controller on top of the television where it can't throw itself underfoot, and then she goes to crouch onto the floor in front of the couch and help him out of his underwear.

Even his dick is pretty, Kat thinks almost angrily. Or maybe she just thinks it is because she desperately wants it right now.

Settling down onto her knees, her hands resting on his hips, Katarina leans forward—fair's fair, even if she doesn't have anything (arguably) clever to say beforehand—and gives his cock a preliminary lick. Just a little, just with the tip of her tongue, to see how he feels about it.

Yasuo considers, briefly, shooting back with something clever, but he's far too focused on both the game in front of them and the one they've made for themselves to actually say anything aloud. And then her nimble fingers are pulling down his briefs and fuck it's such a relief to have his hard-on not constricted by the cotton that he unconsciously lets out a breathy sigh before she even touches him.

And then.

This is the sort of thing he would have had dreams about as a teen, Yasuo thinks distantly. A bright-eyed redhead kneeling between his thighs, pupils blown and face flush, the bright red of her lips and tongue and oh fuck.

Yasuo grips the couch cushions, his head falling back as he groans. It's been way, way too damn long.

Katarina grins, not that Yasuo can see it at the moment, deciding that that's enough encouragement for now. She moves her left hand from his thigh to loosely wrap it around his cock, circling it with her tongue before sucking the head into her mouth.

She watches him through hooded eyes, stroking him slowly, scratching the curve of his hip gently with her fingernails. Turnabout, she reasons, and moans deliberately around his cock so he can feel it.

Fuck. She doesn't have the patience for this. Kat pulls off of him, pushing her hair out of her face.

"I have a bed if you're interested," she says.

Yasuo gives a full-body shiver, eyes refusing to stay open no matter how badly he wants to watch her. Fuck. Forget his teen self, his present self is going to be having dreams about this for months.

He almost complains when she pulls away, but she makes her offer before he gets the chance. All his previous doubts fade away, as does all his self-control. "Please," he says. (As does his dignity too, apparently.) "Any longer on this couch and I think my spine might snap," he adds, to recover from the vague embarrassment of devolving to begging so quickly.

~*

It occurs to him, when he wakes up blearily under a pile of frankly unreasonably soft blankets (under the watchful eyes of at least ten different plastic Stargate characters, judging him from her bookshelf), that he hadn't bothered to actually kiss Kat on the mouth before he started kissing her in other places. That... has to be some sort of record. He's not sure if he should be proud or embarrassed.

The first thing Katarina is aware of upon waking up is someone else's limbs wrapped completely around her body. It's actually really, really impressive.

And very warm. And there is no way to get out of the cage of arms and the leg hooked over her thighs without waking up the owner of said arms and leg. Which she doesn't think he deserves, really. If he were bad in bed, she would absolutely wake him up, but... well, but he wasn't. So she's stuck.

At least she can reach her phone, barely. So there's something.

It takes twenty minutes, but Yasuo finally stirs, his arms tightening experimentally before he seems to figure out what she is and what she's doing there. She turns her head, but can't quite do it enough to look at him.

"Morning," she says. "If you let me up I can make you a coffee or something." Because as much as she likes it when Yone breaks through his customer service face to give her a look of concern or disappointment or growing dread, even she thinks that waltzing into the café with his bleary-eyed, sex-and-then-shower-and-then-sex-in-the-shower-itself-and-then-sleeping-in-a-stranger's-bed-rumpled brother in tow would be a bit much.

"Morning," Yasuo mumbles, his voice scratchy from sleep. Lazily, he cranes his neck down to kiss the crown of her head. (If her mouth weren't still too far away, he'd go ahead and fix the little problem that now won't stop nagging at the back of his mind. Damn it.)

It takes a few seconds for her offer to crawl through his ears and into his sleep-addled brain. When it does, he disentangles himself—with some considerable effort—and flops onto his stomach, face buried in a pillow.

"Coffee's'nice," he murmurs. Warm mattresses are even nicer.

Katarina snickers to herself, stretching the kinks out of her spine now that the human octopus has finally freed her.

He could have worse nighttime habits, though. At least this isn't inconvenient enough not to be a little bit cute. It's not really a point against him.

She doesn't bother putting her clothes on when she leaves the bedroom; her blinds are down if not closed, and there's no way anyone could see much from the street with the floor she's on. (And even if they could, she might consider the morning light slanting through the slats to be worth it.) She's between trips to the grocery store, so it's not like she'll burn her tits on wayward bacon grease or anything.

Kat's coffee maker hasn't seen as much use since she discovered the cafe, but it gurgles into life with only minimal grumbling and produces its mostly adequate product in short order.

And then she realizes she has no idea how he likes his coffee, so she just puts the pot on a pizza pan with some milk and a bowl of sugar and an extra mug and wanders back into her room.

She carefully places the sheet next to his shoulder. "Coffee," she says by way of conversation, and starts attacking her own cup.

Yasuo rolls over like a log on a slope, and makes a noise similar to one too. With a grunt, he pushes himself up until he's sitting propped against the wall, taking the cup in one hand and the pot in the other. "Thanks," he mumbles, still half-asleep despite his best efforts. He pours in an almost—almost—embarrassing amount of milk with a paradoxically small spoonful of sugar, stirs it, and fairly chugs the whole damn thing, scalded tongues be damned.

He's been a university student for long enough now that this is just his routine at this point. ...Minus the naked redhead, though that is a nice bonus.

"Sleep well?"

Katarina reaches up to pull her tangled hair away from her shoulders, smiling at the ravenous way he downs the coffee.

"No other way I could sleep after that," she says—testing the waters, mostly, seeing how comfortable he is with what they did after the initial lust has faded.

She scoots to sit next to him, their shoulders touching as she sips her coffee. "You?"

Yasuo glances at the carafe, idly wondering if there's enough left for him to have another cup, or if that would be rude. After a second's deliberation, he decides that fuck it, might as well.

"Can't argue with that," he says with a lopsided grin. "Probably the best night's sleep I've had since..." He wrinkles his nose. "Since before I started school. Damn."

Another drink of coffee, this one much less ravenous. Yasuo glances at her sidelong. "Guess I should be thanking you," he adds.

Kat grins into her mug, more pleased than she feels like admitting. Smug? Smug works.

"I can think of a few ways you could thank me, if you're taking suggestions," she offers, taking a moment to drag her eyes down his body like she hadn't spent a good chunk of the previous evening examining it in detail anyway. "If you wanted to make this a regular thing, just to blow off steam..."

Yasuo lies back a little, casually sipping his coffee. He's pretty sure she's seen enough of him up close that she doesn't need to scan it quite like that, but who is he to deny the pretty redhead who practically gave him breakfast in bed—and after a night like that? He's pretty sure there's some phrase about horses that applies here.

"All right, Commander Shepard," he says, cracking another grin. "Seems fair to me."

Her heart honest-to-God skips a beat. He didn't, she thinks. He doesn't. He can't. Is the Japanese translation that weirdly true to form or was the first thing he did upon coming to America to just play fucking Mass Effect?

Either way, he deserves so much better than her. Damn.

Kat laughs—a surprisingly natural sound, startled and delighted. "Is this your favorite spot on the Citadel, Vakarian?"

Yasuo grins, laughter easily bubbling up in his throat. "Starting to look that way, Commander," he says, leaning over to bump his forehead against hers before finally—fucking finally—kissing her on the lips.

(This is fast becoming the weirdest, most specific roleplay he's ever done. And honestly, at this point, he can't bring himself to mind.)

Katarina kisses him back cheerfully, reaching with the hand not occupied with her cup to find the tangle of his surprisingly soft hair. His mouth tastes more of coffee than of morning breath, which she appreciates, and--wait.

"We didn't do that yet, did we?"

[rapfornication]

A List of a Bunch of Songs We Liked by Siya Mbatha & Norman

2016, what a year. Included in this list are the emotions and memories that came with these songs. Here is a list that attempts to consolidate a most uniquely strange year .Fuck Donald Trump and enjoy the links to other pieces we thought you might enjoy too. And also fuck Donald Trump. 

Danny Brown – When It Rain 

Produced By Paul White Album: Atrocity Exhibition

One of the more left field songs that still somehow has an underlying jitty foot-light feel to it. It sounds like ‘Dip’ if it grew up in a dark basement and suffered from crippling anxiety. Danny Brown matches the atmosphere with some of his most vivid, impressive writing to date as he describes Detroit as a city that sees no change but gentrification, grannies getting robbed and more guns than necessary. Unforgettable.

Kendrick Lamar - untitled 02 | 06.23.2014.

Produced By Yung Exclusive & Cardo Album: untitled unmastered.

Cornrow Kenny brought out the circus tricks without losing his seriousness. The build-up is one captivating performance but once his voice swings into high pitched, the stunting and trumpets go into overdrive and you’re left pleasantly stunned. Get God on the phone.

Fat Joe & Remy Ma Feat. French Montana & Infa Red - All The Way Up

Produced By Cool & Dre & Edsclusive Album: Plata O Plomo

They say regionalism is dead but this all NY affair begs to differ. Cool and Dre provide the bass and unforgettable horns and the legends (plus Montana) rip it apart like a swaggier version of The Avengers. Remy Ma came back and ignited desperately needed fire.

Fat Joe & Remy Ma Feat. Infa-Red, Jay Z & French Montana -  All The Way Up (remix)

Produced By Cool & Dre & Edsclusive

 Lean Back left a lasting legacy, even for the millennials like my whack self who remembers slogans like Terror Squad, before Khaled was Billy Ocean, back when Fat Joe had the red parka in the video

"Lemonade is a popular drink and it still is". Lemonade the album that I still haven't listened to has just dropped and every beyhive fan on Twitter was up in arms mad that Jay Z was getting his lemonade from a woman named Becky -if you're into that kinda thing. And that’s all Hov was gonna do in terms of speaking on it. One more time, let it sink in. Lemonade is a popular drink and it still is. He pretty much ethered Beyoncé if you think about it.

Rihanna – Needed Me

Produced By Kuk Harrell & DJ Mustard Album: ANTI

For the first time in her long career, Rihanna sounded liberated. ‘Needed Me’ amplifies the dark, sexual charisma she always displayed in ways that feel less put-on (Rated-R, basically) and more like self-expression. A fantastic wonky Mustard beat gives her room to remind her past flame who really was doing who a favour. Savagery personified in one song. Oh, that shot of Robyn in a lacy blue dress, gun in hand, looking out to the beach? Iconic

BBNG Feat. Samuel T. Herring – Time Moves Slow

Produced By BADBADNOTGOOD Album: IV

It’s been great watching BBNG grow into their own. The legendary Sam Herring lends his heartfelt voice to this perfectly crafted number. Personally, it got me through a messy situationship. Unreciprocated love makes it feel like time is moving slow.

Kid Cudi Feat. Travis Scott - Baptized In Fire

Produced By Mike Dean & Plain Pat Album: Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin'

This is the most Kid Cudi Kid Cudi has sounded for a long time. And it's scary to figure that your preference for an artist is derived in their articulation of their personal pain and struggles, I mean it's why we fuck with a Basquiat right? But here, here it's like Cudi just wanted to make his number one fan Travis Scott happy. The reserved role that La Flame takes in this feels like that, like he's soaking the moment in. The production overall sound is very reminiscent of Man On The Moon, if not a remake considering Plain motherfucking Pat, Mike Dean, La Flame and Cudder were all on this, SQUAD.

Schoolboy Q – JoHn Muir

Produced By Sounwave Album: Blank Face LP

Deadly basslines and triumphant horns score Q’s coming of age tale to churn out one of the best songs on ‘.Blankface’. Can’t help but poorly crip walk when this album cut comes on.

Kemba – Already

Produced By Frank Drake Album: Negus

Honestly, one could have chosen any song on Kemba’s often brilliant LP, ‘Negus’ but ‘Already’ takes the cake for two reasons: it’s Frank Duke’s hardest beat since ‘Fuckin’ Up The Count’ and the artist sounds angry, dissatisfied and wounded by the awful recurring problems surrounding race. Isn’t that how we all felt in this bizarre year?

Samiyam Feat. Earl Sweatshirt - Mirror

Produced By Samiyam Album: Animals Have Feelings

This song was supposed to come right after Faucet but looking in this in totality it's fitting that it only dropped in 2016, a year later. A resolute Earl spits his way through his insecurities and imperfections "despite how they praising your face I'mma make do!". Earl's raps are never really about us, mans just telling his story and again we find ourselves in it. Looking in the mirror, seeing the only the nigga we wanted to be. It's not angry, it's aggressively encouraging.

Isaiah Rashad – Park

Produced By Park Ave. & D. Sanders Album: The Sun's Tirade

Trying to follow the topics Rashad dives into is genuinely exciting. In lesser hands, it just wouldn’t work but he’s always saved by the mere fact that he’s a compelling writer. Over fluttering hi hats and knocking sparse bass, he compares himself to Nicki Minaj and Guwop, reveals sexual infidelity while denouncing his savagery and still sneaks in discerning bars about fatherhood and religion. What really trips one out is how effortless it all sounds.

Noname – Freedom Interlude

Produced By Phoelix & Saba Album: Telefone

Out the shadows, Noname took her spot as one the more talented rappers of her generation. ‘Freedom Interlude ‘  is all her strengths wrapped in one warm song. Her intricate soliloquies spill over some steady drums and calming chords as she wanders and aches about Bill Cosby, perception, motherhood, becoming and everything in between.

Jeff Chery – Salty

Produced By Stefan Green

The cliché goes: if you don’t have haters, you aren’t doing anything noteworthy. So, naturally, songs about them are probably my favourite. Nothing like glorious flexing as a defence mechanism to truly propel a song and Chery leans into his naysayers over woozy bass and autotune.

J. Cole – Neighbors

Produced By J. Cole Album: 4 Your Eyez Only

Certain people will always let prejudices rule their perception of others. As a young black man, the hurtful reminders creep up on you every time who walk pass a car and the white person inside frantically locks their door or when you call your friends for a get together and your racist nearby residents bring the police to your doorstep to break it up. Cole explores this reality in a way that’s both relatable and fittingly hopeless. No matter who or where you are, the burden of being black is sometimes too heavy.

DJ Khaled Feat. Drake - For Free

Produced By Jordan Ullman & Nineteen85 Album: Major Key

I didn't want Khaled and Drake to have another anthem so they made another anthem. And as audacious as Drizzy Drake Rogers might be, as irritating as his love "Serana, Rihanna and JLo in one year" life might be, this is a really nice song. Like those moments after when you're feeling yourself, appreciating your agility wanting to ask the person next to you “... Is this sex so good I shouldn't have to fuck for free?"

Ma-E & AKA – Lie 2 Me

Produced by: Brian Soko, Mr Kamera & Ma-E 

Ma- E is basically your uncle who tries way too hard to look/sound ‘hip’ but still somehow pulls it without coming off corny. This ‘Township Counsellor’ gem hides the lingering insecurity of being rich/famous and always wondering if people like you for you or what you offer. Roping in SA’s erratic egoistic makes perfect sense as the pair smash this one out the park.

Ka – Just

Produced By Ka Album: Honor Killed the Samurai

Gangster turned firefighter, Ka writes like how one would imagine if they found themselves in a ‘I Am Legend’ type world. Even the pragmatic, bare-knuckle beats can’t dull the emotionally profound bars about backstabbers, dead loved ones, poverty and unfulfilled potential. Guilt more than anything invades this samurais’ nightmares.

Lil Yachty - One Night (Extended) 

Produced by TheGoodPerry Album: Lil Boat

It's really the most pleasant mean way to tell a hoe she ain't no wifey, matter of fact to tell anyone she ain't no wifey. But the video is tight tho, very Odd Future 2011-esq and very much Lil Yachty's assertion that he's pretty much here to do whatever the fuck he wants with this hip hop thing, and even scarier is that you actually can't stop him. Hook hella catchy tho.

Cousin Stizz Feat. Larry June – Down Like That

Produced By Puff Daddy Album MONDA

Billed as a showcase of star potential, Stizzy breaks out of the seriousness that drives ‘MONDA’ for some old fashioned hijinks. But Larry June truly murks this sizzling beat with one of the verses of the year. Who else can deliberately rap off beat, admit and end the bar with cold ‘fuck rap’?

Belly Feat. 2 Chainz, The Weeknd & Yo Gotti - Might Not (Remix)  

Produced By Merlin Watts, DaHeala & Ben Billions

Between the time the original and now Belly had delivered consistently cold bars embodied in solid projects twice. And hip hops heavy hitters and OGs aren't asleep to this, Belly's signed to Roc Nation. Everyone on here does their part but it's 2 Chainz who steals the show with his playful but vicious flow with audacious lines like, "IF YOU LOVE ME TAT MY NAME ON YOUR UTERUS!". Belly comes through cold tapping into the drug taking, model fucking persona The Weeknd had before he went full pop on us. And while Yo Gotti's verse is otherwise forgettable, mans didn't go down without a fight. 

Young Thug - Digits/Swizz Beats

Produced By Wheezy Album: JEFFERY

Thug’s output makes it hard to pick a favourite but these two highlight why I love Slime’s style. He’s a unique, eccentric singular voice that constantly defies rap norms and conjures up memorable hooks with ease.

A$AP Mob Feat. A$AP Rocky, A$AP Ant, A$AP Ferg, A$AP Nast, A$AP Twelvyy & Juicy J  - Yamborghini High

Produced By Hector Delgado Album: Cozy Tapes Vol. 1: Friends

First off, s/o and daps to A$AP Mob for executing skits on a tape the way we remember skits on a tape, niggas too fucking cozy. It's the type of contextualising taking us back to Pesos. A corner store in Harlem. Second, you gotta want to believe that Yams in heaven tripping the fuck out not only watching the most tumbler-esque video but fact that the whole tape is not only an ode to Yams but also the preservation of his legacy.

Denzel Curry – ULT

Produced By Finatik N Zac, Nick Leon & Ronny J Album Imperial

The most gifted pick on 2016’s XXL Freshmen List. ‘ULT’ is the perfect song if you’re unfamiliar with Curry’s work. It’s high tempo and ferocious coupled with unyielding intelligence. Denzel sounds unflinching in the face of racial profiling and police brutality as he basks in the idea of unity. The chorus carries its 2Pac influence proudly. Revolt music.

Chance The Rapper feat. Saba - Angels 

Produced By The Social Experiment & Lido   Album Coloring Book

Chance is that guy, he either irks you or like Obama he's on your playlist(s). So this song found its way onto mine. This is the soundtrack to my success, the background music to scenes of triumph, the sound of joy, a thugs prayer of gratitude ..that's this song. Pain is beautiful but it takes real skill to articulate happiness. 

 ASAP Mob - Telephone Calls Feat.  Yung Gleesh, Playboi Carti, Tyler, The Creator & A$AP Rocky

Produced By Plu2o Nash Album Cozy Tapes Vol. 1: Friends

The best thing about this song outside the quotable, outside Tyler stepping his flow up, outside walk Gleesh walk and outside "POST MAN, who dis?" is A$AP Rocky's verified lyrics where he writes about Tyler "I wish I knew this nigga my whole life" ❤

Frank Ocean Feat. KOHH – Nikes

Produced By Malay Ho, Om'Mas Keith & Frank Ocean Album: Blonde

Frank’s writing displays vulnerable humanity that we all try and tap into on our best days. ‘Nikes’ is filled with hilarious shit talking, short eulogies to passed peers and kin, lines about doing lines and trying to stay young. Life in your 20’s captured in 5 minutes.

Isaiah Rashad - Free Lunch

Produced By Cam O'bi Album: The Sun's Tirade

 Damn, I hate to say this but drugs and depression gave depth to this man’s music and made it interesting. After Clivia Demo, I had feared that under the shadow of TDE/Kendrick hype, that like other almost kinda famous sorta artists we were going to lose him, collateral damage so to speak. But instead Rashad in the most cliche of ways turned tragedy into triumph. 

Skepta – Man(Gang)

Produced By Skepta Album: Konnichiwa

The appeal of grime is its ability to be entertaining and aggressively haughty simultaneously. Skepta comes for everyone’s head on this ‘Konnichiwa’ standout. Fake fans and friends, washed rappers &wannabe fashionstas; no one is spared. London boyz made noise in 2016.

Childish Gambino – Me & Your Mama

Produced By Ludwig Göransson Album: "Awaken, My Love!"

The signal to the stars. Sitting through this ever mortifying gospel-rock joint feels transient. A shift from dick inspired punchlines to channeling Parliament Funkdelic; Donald Glover is proof of the rewards of artistic progression.

Danny Brown - Dance In The Water 

Produced By Paul White Album: Atrocity Exhibition

I'd like to think that this song would fit perfectly in a Tarantino film that's already been made, maybe that one about the car with Rosario Dawson and the lady who did stunts for Uma Therman. I'd like to think those things, a perfect middle between the old world and new. Danny Brown, at his peak, paints the most perfect picture of curated chaos.. 

Saba & Noname – Church/Liquor Store

Produced By Cam O'bi Album: Bucket List Project

Two of Chicago’s more gifted writers take us on a ride through their hometown. Saba is insightful, sorrowful and clear headed as he tackles addiction, gang violence, gentrification and the school to prison system. Noname acts as the perfect foil. It soars with gorgeous keys and beautiful choir worthy voices that only add to the misery

Earl Sweatshirt & Knxwledge – Balance

Produced By Knxwledge Album: 2016 Adult Swim Singles

A sensible union. Two talented non stars whose styles fit each other like big feet & AF’s 1.Earl’s attention to detail add a personal touch to universal gripes of being young, black & confused. His mumblings feel at home over Knxwledge’s lush, anxious phrases.

AKA ft Yanga – Dream Work

Produced by KJ Conteh

Sampling ‘Street Fighter’ should already make this a classic but AKA takes it a step further by rightfully staking a claim to SA rap’s crown. The hook is masterful; Yanga’s voice complements the thumping bass perfectly and AKA sounds focused, sharp and agitated. A continuation of a 5 year streak that doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. Long Live Supa Mega.

Terrance Martin – Valdez off Crenshaw

Produced by Terrace Martin Co-Produced by Robert “Sput” Searight

Modern music would be less great without Terrace Martin. One could go on an endless tangent listing countless accolades and contributions but rather we stick to this one moment on “Velvet Portraits”. It’s a mesmerizing piece of jazz leaning funk that contains an electric guitar solo that’s so beautifully over the top you can’t help sit in awe. An experience.

D.R.A.M Feat. Lil Yachty – Broccoli

Produced By J Gramm Beats Album: Big Baby D.R.A.M.

There's this phenomena taking place where new kids want to be their own, don't want to inherit problems, keen to dictate their own narrative. This song is a prime example of this. D.R.A.M is on here with his puppy hugging positive healthy outlook on life bars and Lil Yachty is here in his whole self. The millennials Big Pimpin', I’m calling it.

Kadhja Bonet – Honey Comb

Produced By Kadhja Bonet Album: The Visitor

‘Classical music’ can be an off putting label. But Bonet puts a modern spin on the genre and breathes new life into it. It sounds so good it possess the power to you cleanse all your proverbial sins. Gorgeous piece of music.

 Solange Feat. Lil Wayne - Mad 

Produced By Troy "R8DIO" Johnson, David Longstreth, Sir Dylan, Solange &Raphael Saadiq Album: A Seat at the Table

Very rarely are us folk, black folk, worldwide given the space to be angry. Our sorrow, our pain and small glimmers of happiness have their time, designated hours. So when you're mad, you're mad on your own, you're carrying it on your own .. and when you finally exhale it's a lot. Mad about inabilities and inadequacies of the self. It's always just too much to never have someone ask "why you mad son?". It's a relief to have a song like this affirm that anger. Affirming the experience of holding on anger only for it to be dismissed, invalidated to be "why you always be so mad"-ed. I praise Solo for speaking this truth. 

Rae Sremmurd Feat. Gucci Mane – Black Beatles

Produced By Mike WiLL Made-It Album: SremmLife 2

Mannequin challenge aside, ‘Black Beatles’ was destined to be a hit. Swan Lee sounds like a fallen angel; cautious and courageous. Jimi admirably keeps up and Gucci is his outrageous melodic self. Mike Will brings out the trademark ear wormy tunes and you’ve got a stellar song that celebrates youthful exuberance like no other this year. Rae Sremmurd > The Beatles

Rich Chigga - Dat $tick 

Easily the hardest bars and hardest beat of the year, or the 2nd Quarter.  Upper Echelon bars. YOUR FAVORITE RAPPER WAS SHOOK WHEN HE HEARD IT. 

DJ Esco Feat. Future & Rae Sremmurd - Party Pack 

Produced By Southside & DJ Esco Album: Project E.T. Esco Terrestrial

 If you questioned the longevity of Future's "glow up" or how Rae Sremmurd would navigate beyond being the cute small guys then this song stands as testament. On this song Future sounds energized, he sounds damn near competitive on a song that features another well executed Swae Lee hook and a very well placed Slim Jxmmi.

Boogie – Nigga Needs

Produced By Keyel Album: Thirst 48, Pt. 2

Boogie has a knack of simplifying nuanced thoughts and conflicting feelings. Coupled with a video of him as a bleeding centrepiece in an art gallery, The Thirst 48 rapper tries to come to terms the difficultly of self-improvement in a world that conspires against him.

Travis Scott Feat. NAV - Beibs in the Trap

Produced By NAV Album: Birds In The Trap Sing McKnight

 Ay, millennials finally get our own cocaine raps, that tight. But say no to drugs. Drugs ruin lives. Drugs also cost way too much money to pick it up as a habit. Also, who actually does cocaine anymore. Isn't tripping on anxiety meds, though troubling cos clearly in the purest sense of self we have proved incapable of dealing with the realities of this world, the wave? I dunno, just don't do crack kids. That's not glamorous. Neither is crushed up Ritalin on your gums. Great song though 5/5 shout outs NAV for the harmonies and production s/o Justin Beiber.

Westside Gunn & Action Bronson – Dudley Boyz

Produced By The Alchemist Album: Flygod

Wrestling and food references? Boasting about hardness and superior garments over velvet soft chords? Why didn’t this collaboration happen sooner? Old heads need to pay more attention to Westside and stop complaining about mumble rap.

DJ Khaled Feat. Jay Z & Future – I Got Keys

Produced By Jake One, G Koop & Southside Album:Major Key

The God MC came down a couple of times this year to bless his subjects but this Future – assisted joint was a highlight. Not a world beater but admirable considering it is a 42 year old taking a jab at a relentless Southside banger.

2Chainz – Ounces Back

Produced By DJ Spinz Album Daniel Son; Necklace Don

This Christmas, I’m thankful that the most entertaining rapper on earth was inspired all throughout the year. A performance littered with ludicrous lines about forgotten apartments in Jupiter(???), expensive jewelry and his upper echelon sex game. The flow is never forced or out of pocket over dreamy bass and stuttering keys. How is he over 40 and more inventive than rappers half his age?

21 Savage – No Heart

Produced By CuBeatz, Southside & Metro Boomin Album: Savage Mode

The line between fantasy and realism grows blurry with each social media update. We continue to laud rappers who seem to draw from real life experiences more than the ‘posers’ and that what makes ‘No Heart’ so great.21 is way too specific & menacing not mean any of his threat- filled lines. Metro Boomin’ matches the dead eyed feel with his most minimalist work to date and the end product is as enthralling as it is terrifying. 

Chance The Rapper Feat. 2 Chainz & Lil Wayne - No Problem 

Produced By BrassTracks Album: Coloring Book

Chance The Rapper Feat. 2 Chainz & Lil Wayne - No Problem Produced by: Album: Coloring Book  Coloring Book is one of those polarizing projects, you either felt it or you didn't .. I didn't. But he made songs like this that didn't make you feel like you were at Christian Rap Camp, some menacing statements were made on here echoed by your mum’s church choir. Wayne told us about freeing the choir, Chance threw threats about labels meeting the real south side and 2 Chainz? Man that man effortlessly floated just right on this pleasant song that even this weird iPhone class project video even is enjoyable.  ZBo8QA/K2O8

Migos Feat. Lil Uzi Vert – Bad & Boujee

Produced By Metro Boomin Album: CULTURE

An ode to classy fly women that even Uzi Vert couldn’t ruin. Offset’s show-stealing hook sticks in your mind like a deferred exam. A shining example of the power of Migos as a hit-making collective.

Kanye West Feat. Kendrick Lamar -No More Parties in LA

Produced By Kanye West & Madlib Album The Life of Pablo

It's only fitting that the most flagrant and audacious bars would find themselves sitting on this masterpiece. It's almost felt like a battle rap, Kendrick urging Kanye to rap again and Ye coming the fuck thru, "that God for me!" Pablo declares triumphantly and the song is so good, it's such a Kanye signature sample old heads the energy in the recording studio is crazy with McDonald's and Hennessy. Crazy. Fucking magical is what it is.

G.O.O.D Music Feat. Kanye West, Big Sean, Quavo, Gucci Mane, 2 Chainz, Travis Scott, Desiigner & Yo Gotti - Champions

Produced By Kanye West, A-Trak, Lex Luger & Mike Dean Album: Cruel Winter

Briefly, for but at least a second it looked like Kanye, Pusha T, fucking Kid Cudi, La Flame, 2 Chainz and even Big Sean .. it looked like the gang were back together. This single came as a result of hysteria, a just released Gucci, Kanye West finally releasing an album, a Quavo in his prime on a fucking MIKE DEAN track. In this moment, with the whole world in a frenzy doing everything they could do to somehow get their hands on these super stars, we were reminded that this label, GOOD Music, is a home to champions.