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formula-ghost · 2 days ago

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Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 5: Valentine (FINALE)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The end of the 2024 F1 season brings regret and a newfound desire for reconciliation—but is your relationship with Franco beyond saving?

WORD COUNT: 13k

WARNINGS: Sadness. Angry Hispanic mother. Creepy men in bars (not Franco ofc). Drinking, drunk Franco is a media menace. Use of the word whore jokingly. Smut 18+ MINORS DNI. Hickeys, hair pulling. Dom Franco and sub reader, use of good girl, light choking, Oral (m receiving), p in v, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

SERIES TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle

A/N: My baby is now complete!! I did not plan for this to be the ending originally, but as I was writing it just kind of came about, and who am I to anger the writing Gods? Honestly, though, the beginning of this chapter destroyed me trying to find a way to redeem Franco. Fun fact, I very loosely based my depiction of Franco off of my real life ex, which explains why he is so horrible lmao (but unlike my real life ex, Franco has been redeemed!). I cannot express how grateful I am for everyone’s support throughout the writing of this story. More to come, but for now, enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

All this love, I'm so choked up, I can feel you in my blood

All this lust for just one touch, I'm so scared to give you up

Valentine, my decline is so much better with you

Valentine, my decline, I'm always running' to you

Valentine, Valentine

The block button did nothing to assuage Franco’s obsession with you. In fact, it only made it worse.

If he hadn’t blocked you, he would at least know that you weren’t contacting him. But since he pressed the button, there was now the ever present question of if you had reached out, and if the digital barrier he erected had led it to be lost forever.

But why would you reach out after what he had done?

Truthfully, it took everything in you to not call him. You had both said things you didn’t mean—at least, you prayed that Franco didn’t mean them—and you wanted nothing more than to just make up and act like it never happened.

But the words kept echoing in your mind at night when you couldn’t sleep. You were a distraction.

All the years of supporting him, all the sacrifices you made—all for nothing.

You couldn’t help that you loved him. And the Franco you knew and loved didn’t mean those things. He couldn’t.

So you checked your phone’s international clock. It was still night where you were at home, but morning in Abu Dhabi, where he’d be completing his last F1 race tomorrow.

There was still time. If you called and made up now, you could be there for the final race. You could be there at the end, just like you had been there at all of his beginnings.

So you swallowed your pride, tapped on his name in your contacts, and pressed call. But it didn’t even ring before it hung up. You knew what that meant. He had blocked you.

At first you wanted to puke. You wanted to burst down the stairs of your apartment and run into the street screaming. You wanted to throw a bottle of wine on the walls and cry in the wreckage.

But after a few hours of getting all the crying out, a strange peace fell over you.

It was just… over. That was that.

In the morning, however, the grief came back from a familiar notification. His mother.

You had been putting off her messages ever since your argument with Franco. You couldn’t bear to tell her what had happened. But she was worried about you, evident by her increasingly concerned messages.

You finally gathered the courage to type up a response.

Hi Mami, you began—she had forbidden you to call her by her name, instead telling you to call her Mom—I tried to talk to Franco like you asked. It didn’t go well, and we both said a lot of hurtful things. It ended on bad terms and he ended up canceling all my passes and flights, and I think he blocked me. I’m sorry, I tried to get through to him. Thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me over the years <3

You read over what you’d typed. It was honest. You could have spared her more of the details, but why? Franco would have to live with the consequences of his actions. That wasn’t your problem.

It was only a few moments later that she responded. Oh dear, I am so sorry. I am ashamed of Franco—that is not the son I raised. I hope you know we all love you, and I wish you all the best.

You liked her message and left it at that. But she called you later that night.

She began, “YN, words can’t describe how sorry I am. What happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” you began, carefully choosing your words. You weren’t quite sure how much you wanted to tell her. “He was already upset when I got there. He kept accusing me of lecturing him, but I was just trying to tell him I was worried. He said… that I was a distraction.”

“I can’t believe him! You have never been a distraction. You’ve been there for him when we couldn’t, we’ve always been so grateful for you.” Her admission nearly brought tears to your eyes. “I just… Dios Mio.”

The conversation was short, but vulnerable.

“YN, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You had feelings for him, didn’t you?” She asked it as if it were a statement, rather than a question.

You were silent for a beat before answering. “I did. I… I do.”

“Oh, dear, I wish I was there to give you a hug.” You could feel the care in her voice, a soothing comfort. “I want you to know you’re always welcome here, no matter what my idiot son says.”

You chuckled, thanking her for her kindness before ending the call. You were truly grateful for her invitation, but you couldn’t imagine being in Argentina without Franco. The call had felt more like a farewell.

In Abu Dhabi, Franco was having his own farewells. It was bittersweet; he had worked so hard for so long to get here, but he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He just wanted to go home.

Home—the only place he felt like he had left. His Madrid apartment would feel empty without your laughter echoing in the halls. But back in Argentina, the people still loved him, and he could come back to a warm, home-cooked meal.

It was the only thing on his mind as he was forced to retire the car early, ending his last F1 race of 2024 with a DNF. But he didn’t care about that at all when he stepped off his flight from Abu Dhabi to Buenos Aires.

Unfortunately for him, what was waiting for him at home was not peace and a warm meal. It was a very angry Hispanic mother.

He came through the door, jet lagged, struggling with his luggage. She didn’t help him.

When his father and sister ran up to give him a hug and help him in, she didn’t move an inch. She just stayed in the kitchen, silently chopping vegetables with her recently sharpened knife.

After putting away his bags into his room, Franco made his way to the kitchen to greet his mother, who didn’t even look up from her cutting board.

“Hi Mami, I’m home,” he said tentatively.

“Welcome home,” she replied, no warmth in her voice.

“Aren’t you excited to see me?” he joked. He knew he was dodging landmines. He knew she had every right to be angry—he had gotten caught up in everything after Singapore, and after his controversy, he had been dodging her calls and texts, other than to arrange plans to come home for the holidays. Others may have gotten over their frustration, or chose to ignore it for the sake of the holidays. She was not that kind of woman.

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” she said, her voice flat. “Dinner is almost ready. Can you set the table for five, please?”

“Five? There’s only 4 of us.”

“Well, isn’t YN going to join us?” She already knew the answer. She just wanted to see him squirm as he answered it. He had nowhere to run anymore.

“Uh… no. Not this year.”

“And why would that be?”

“She’s, uh, busy.” His mother didn’t respond. He had to fill the awkward silence. “And she’s probably mad at me…”

She paused, holding the knife in an iron grip. She lifted it from the cutting board to point towards him. “And why would that be, Franco?”

“Mami…”

“Do not lie to me.” Her voice was cold as ice.

“Mami, it’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to enjoy the holidays and forget about this whole season.”

“I’m sure you do,” she concluded, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. Franco sighed, getting down the plates to set the table for his family. But he stopped in his tracks when he turned and felt a slipper to the back of his head.

“Ah! What was that for?” The blow didn’t hurt anything but his ego.

“You know what you did,” his mother seethed. “You can’t run from this forever. Now get out of my kitchen.”

Franco obeyed, muttering under his breath.

“What was that?” his mother asked.

“Nothing!” he chirped, setting the plates on the table.

During dinner, it wasn’t any better. His father and sister, oblivious to his mother’s rage, chatted as if nothing had happened. They had been angry at his…questionable dating decisions, yes, but they clearly had let it go in the meantime and decided to just enjoy the time together as a family. His mother, however, had not.

And whenever anyone asked about it, she said she was fine. But she was clearly not fine.

As Franco took the dishes into the kitchen to help clean up after dinner, he sighed, knowing that his mother was right. He couldn’t go the entire holiday ignoring it—she would make sure of that.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The bed of his childhood home was warm and comforting, but he couldn’t relax under the weight of it all.

Maybe some fresh air would do him good. That’s what he reasoned when he slid open the back door and inhaled the cool night air. He sat cross legged on the back terrace, just taking in the sounds of the serene night.

That was, until he heard another person closing the door behind him. His mother.

“Not now, Mami,” he said, not even turning to look at her.

“I’m not going to chastise you.” She handed him a mug of something warm. For a moment they just sat next to each other, sipping their drinks in silence.

Franco began to speak unprompted. “YN has every right to be angry at me. I…ruined everything. I was so cruel to her.”

His mother just gave him a reassuring hum.

He continued, “She had feelings for me. I know I should have known it sooner, but I was in denial. But I had feelings for her too. And I got distracted. But it wasn’t her fault. I was so worried about my future that I ignored how she had always been there in my past.”

The mug in his hands trembled and his voice wavered. “She was always there for me. Every race, every win, every failure. She was always there.”

His mother reached for him, lovingly stroking his back as he confessed.

“She probably hates me now. I don’t blame her.” A tear fell into his mug. He turned to look at his mother, her expression far more sympathetic than it was at dinner. “Can I fix it?”

“I don’t know. But first of all, you owe her an apology.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you would have already done it.” He was silent. “It’s possible that she will forgive you. Or, she may not. You have to accept that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Franco,” she began, “you did this. You have to suffer through the consequences of your actions. And if you are lucky enough that she forgives you and wants you back in your life, it’ll be a hell of a lot of work to regain her trust.”

He nodded. “I’ll do it. I’d do anything.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

He paused. “I’m scared. Scared that it really is beyond saving.”

“The longer you wait, the more likely that is to be true.”

This time, he actually knew what he needed to do.

Neither of you knew the parallels between you two; each of you pining for the other’s love, wanting nothing more than just to speak to the other. And when he unblocked you and called, it was like the stars aligned.

You didn’t answer.

He didn’t panic at first. It was close to the holidays, in the middle of the day in your timezone. Maybe you were with your family.

But as one missed call turned to two, and days of no contact turned to weeks, Franco began to know the bitter taste of his own medicine.

You had seen him call. And yes, you were with your family at the time. You told yourself that was the main reason why you hadn’t answered. As if seeing his contact on your phone didn’t shatter your heart into a million pieces.

But later that night, when you were finally alone, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. He hadn’t left any voicemail or text, just his name and a missed call icon.

What would you even say to him? He knew you were angry. And you knew you couldn’t just act as if nothing happened.

So despite your desperation to speak to him again, you just let his calls keep coming and coming over the weeks.

A dark part of you enjoyed having his attention. You waited to see his icon pop up, just to let the call go to voicemail. It made you feel wanted again.

And you were wanted. When he tried to sleep at night, he wanted you. When he talked with his manager about future plans for the next season—back down to F2—he wanted you.

Both of you knew it was a delicate balance. He couldn’t keep calling forever. At some point you’d have to answer, or he’d have to stop. But you loved the dark thrill of pushing it.

And this continued for weeks.

The calls lessened as the F2 season began. Franco was back at work. You had finally let go of the need to watch his races.

But there was another contact you hadn’t ignored: Lily.

She called you out of the blue one day. “YN! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

The last time you saw her—it must have been Austin—felt like years ago.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” you replied.

“Do you… wanna talk about how you’ve been?” It was late January now. You had spent the weeks just passing time, lost, but somehow also at peace with all of it.

“Um… not if you don’t want to ruin your day,” you joked. Humor was a good coping mechanism, you had learned. You’d grown tired of explaining to people why Franco was no longer in your life. You had once been so intertwined, and now, nothing. You were thankful that she didn’t press further.

“Well, we should go out,” she suggested. “I know a great new club in Madrid, and Rebecca and I will be there the weekend before Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s Day. The bane of your fucking existence. Worst holiday ever.

But you had spent Christmas in a daze, and New Years alone. You didn’t know if you could do another holiday like that, so acutely aware of Franco’s absence. So you agreed.

But Lily’s phone call wasn’t as out of the blue as you had thought.

One thing about Franco was that he was determined. If he wanted something, he was going to get it. So yes, he called and called and called and let all his calls be missed.

He couldn’t just text you or leave a voicemail. What he needed to say was too important. He needed to see you.

So he called up the only other woman he knew besides you and his own mother: Lily.

He pitched the idea simply. He just needed her to arrange something where you and him would meet. Lily was skeptical.

“Franco, you know when a woman isn’t answering your calls, it’s usually because she doesn’t want to talk to you, right?”

“I know,” he signed. “I know she’s pissed at me. She has every right to be. I just want to apologize to her.”

“Then why not, like, send her a letter or something? Trying to organize an event where she’s forced to see you is kind of…creepy.”

Deep down, he knew Lily was right. “It’s not like that, though. I just need to see her, say it to her face. If she gets angry and never wants to see me again, I’ll respect her wishes. But I love her too much to not try.”

Lily was a hopeless romantic if nothing else. And Franco was charismatic and too smooth to deny with his one-liners.

So she agreed. Besides, she knew you needed a girls night.

And you realized it too when Rebecca and Lily came over to your apartment to get ready a few weeks later.

You vented to them as they helped you apply your eyeliner and zip up your dress—yes, THAT dress—about how hard the past few weeks had been.

“And then,” you explained, as Rebecca dusted a brush along your cheekbones, “he told me that I didn’t need to be there! As if he wasn’t the one who begged me to go!”

Rebecca made a sour expression. “Girl,” she said, “Good riddance to him.”

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you nearly gasped. You looked fucking amazing.

Yes, you were wearing that dress that always reminded you of him—his favorite color, bought while on vacation to see his family. But if he couldn’t see your beauty, someone else would. And right now, that someone was Lily, as she snapped photos of you all before you left for the club and posted them on her story.

As you entered the club, you felt the bass in your bones. Yes, this was exactly what you needed.

You drank. You danced. You felt the eyes of tipsy men on you.. And for a while, all your troubles faded away.

You approached the bar for your second drink of the night. A man walked next to you, presumably to order his own drink. You recognized him as someone you’d danced with earlier.

“You look great tonight,” he said, eyeing you up and down. His tone was too sleazy for your liking.

“Thanks,” you said, hoping a short response would end the exchange so you could get your drink and make your way back to Lily and Rebecca, who were waiting for you in a booth.

“D’you always dance like that?”

“Like what?”

He smirked. “You’re cute when you play dumb like that.”

You genuinely had no idea what the man was going on about. “Sorry, I need to get back to my friends.”

You turned to leave, but the man grabbed your arm. “Don’t you need to get your drink? Stay a minute.”

You grimaced, but a surge of anxiety kept you frozen to your spot. You turned your glaze to the floor, silently beginning for an out.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Uh…” You were unable to answer. You feigned ignorance. “Sorry, it’s loud in here, I can’t hear you.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know your name to take you home tonight.”

“What?” You wanted to puke.

The man started to reach his arm out toward your waist. You stepped back and bumped into someone. You cursed your own awkwardness. When you turned to apologize, you saw a familiar face.

Franco. Fuck. You felt your stomach drop.

“You know this guy?” The man behind you asked.

“She does,” Franco answered for you. You were grateful—you were unable to speak, choked with anxiety.

“You let your girl act like that?”

“Fuck off, mate.”

The man took the hint and shrugged, taking his drink and disappearing into the crowd.

Your eyes were still glued to the floor. “Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, “it’s the least I could do.”

The bartender handed you your drink. Part of you just wanted to go back to Lily and Rebecca and act like all of this never happened. But by the look of Franco’s face, one of grave seriousness, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

But the other part of you was thankful. Thankful that Franco had saved you from that creep, yes, but also thankful that the stars had aligned to bring you and your best friend back together. What were the odds?

Wait. Maybe the stars hadn’t aligned.

“Franco, what are you doing here?”

Now it was him who looked to the floor in embarrassment. “Lily told me you were here. I asked her to help me talk to you.”

“So you… arranged to find me in a club, because I wasn’t answering your calls?”

Franco may be Latino, but he sure had the audacity of a white man.

“When you put it like that, it sounds bad…”

You rolled your eyes and walked away. He followed you through the crowd.

“YN, wait! Why won't you answer my calls?”

“Because I have nothing to say to you.” That wasn’t true. You actually had a lot to say, you were just too afraid to say it.

“Okay, I get it. I fucked up. But will you just listen to me? Please?”

You just kept walking.

“YN! Please!” You had nearly reached the booths, and he was still following you. You just kept ignoring him.

“YN—” You slammed down your drink on the table, startling Lily and Rebecca. When Franco came into view behind you, they exchanged knowing glances.

You turned around to face him. “Are you really begging?” you whispered in a hushed tone.

“Yes,” he said, his voice equally low.

Lily got out of the booth, standing next to you. “What’s the harm in just hearing him out?” she said, low enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the thumping bass.

You swallowed. The harm? You would fall for him again. And he would hurt you again and again. You’d lose him again. A never ending cycle of pain.

But his pleading expression in front of you was too much to bear. You couldn’t say no to the man you still loved.

“Let’s get some air, hm?” he said, and you nodded, silently following him back to the crowd. He led you to a staircase where a bouncer nodded and silently let the both of you pass.

The staircase led to the roof of the club, with a beautiful view of the city. The space was clearly set up for patrons to enjoy, but there wasn’t a soul there besides you and Franco.

The view took your breath away. You had seen so much beauty when you had traveled the world with Franco for his races, but this was home, and he was warm next to you as he snaked his arm around your waist, silently taking in the sight next to you.

You relaxed into the touch. For a moment, you just let everything fade away into the peaceful scene.

But as you smelled Franco’s familiar cologne and relished the feeling of his touch, you couldn’t help the anxiety that rose in your throat. It felt like it was choking you. You moved forward, forcing his arm away, and leaned against the railing on the edge of the rooftop.

“Say what you have to say,” you said plainly.

“I want to apologize.” His opening sentence was simple, yet powerful. “YN, I was horrible to you. I lied and I betrayed your trust. I blamed all my problems on you, when you were the only one who was ever there for me.”

You watched the cars on the road below, like ants in a colony.

He continued, “And you were right, about everything.”

The silence in the air was thick.

Your voice was shaking when you began. “Franco, you made me feel like I was insane. You… you accused me of using you. You called me a distraction. You said I was disgusting. You uninvited me from the last races and you blocked me.”

“You tried to call?”

“Of course I did.” The tears in your eyes threatened to mess up your mascara that Rebecca had so carefully applied. “I tried to call you before Abu Dhabi. I wanted to forgive you and be there for your last race.”

“Shit, YN… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you now.”

It was him, now, who had eyes full of tears. “YN, I…I love you. I can’t lose you. I know I hurt you, and it kills me. But I miss my best friend. My friend who skipped prom to come to a race. My friend who helped me dry my clothes after she found me trying to use an oven to do it. My friend who is the only one that really gets my sense of humor.”

You finally broke down at his confession. He reached out to hold you.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

He let you cry it out, before pulling back and looking at you. He gently used the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears and fix your smeared makeup.

“I can’t ask for everything to go back to normal,” he said, looking you in the eyes. His eyes were teary, too. “I know I can’t. I did things that are beyond awful. But I promise you that if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll do whatever I can to regain your trust. You’re too important to me.”

All you could do was bury yourself in his chest. He wasn’t expecting the sudden gesture, but he slotted his arms around you like they always belonged there. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You don’t know how long you stood there, warm in his embrace. You could have stayed there for years.

You were brought out of the perfect scene by the sound of a notification on your phone. You broke the hug after a moment to check it. A text from Lily: everything okay?

You chuckled. “I think Lily is worried about us.”

“Well,” he asked, “is everything okay?”

He wanted an answer. You didn’t know if you could say it.

But is this not what your entire journey had been leading up to? You had begun writing in your journal to communicate what you feel. And now, you had no choice.

You were strong. You had changed.

“I want to forgive you,” you said. “But it won’t be easy. It’ll take time.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

“And I can’t promise that I won’t be scared or insecure.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll do. I’ll listen, I’ll show you—”

“Franco.” You cut him off. “I know. I love you.”

You couldn’t name the expression on his face. Like relief. Or love.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You were scared of what door that would open, of how much you truly wanted him to. So you didn’t speak. You just reached up to caress his cheek and tell him with your actions.

Your lips met his, and all the sorrow melted away. You could feel the vibrations of the club under your feet, the gentle pumping of blood through his veins, faster now that he could touch you. He pulled you in by the waist, and you brought your other hand to the back of his neck, making the space between you infinitesimally small.

But you pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. You couldn’t rush it, no matter how badly you wanted it.

When you opened your eyes, he had that expression you had grown to yearn for; it gave away how badly he needed more of you. You could feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the thought of his wanting.

“We should go back down before Lily gets too worried,” you said. He smiled and nodded, but as his expression of desire faded away, you saw the familiar signs of anxiety. He didn’t know how far to push, how comfortable to act.

You grabbed his hand. “And then, you should dance with me.”

His tentative smile grew more relaxed. “Of course.”

Turns out, there’s nothing an honest conversation and a little alcohol couldn’t fix. And in the aftermath of the former, you definitely indulged in the latter—maybe a little too much.

You went downstairs to retrieve your drink that Lily and Rebecca had so kindly watched for you. It was a little watered down from the ice melting, but it would do the trick.

Rebecca helped you fix your makeup as Lily glared at Franco for making you cry. He knew he’d have work to do to earn back their trust, too, but he was more than willing.

So when you were ready, he wasted no time taking you out to the dancefloor to give you the night of your life.

The only problem was that Franco was not a frequent club goer, and therefore unable to handle his liquor. And you all had a lot to drink that night.

You finally cut him off when he threatened to get on the table and start stripping.

“Oh, Lord, Franco, I’m cutting you off, you’ve had too much to drink,” you slurred. You were tipsy yourself, in no state to talk, but at least you were committed to staying clothed for the night.

“What are you gonna do? Fuck me about it?” he joked, sticking his tongue out playfully.

You don’t know if the blush on your face was from the drinks or his taunting. But God, even when he was wasted, he looked so good. As the night had progressed, he had become more disheveled, his shirt buttons coming undone to expose his toned chest and a sheen of sweat from all the dancing. He leaned over, running a hand along your cheek. “Bet you would want that, wouldn’t you?”

“Okay, time to get you home!” you told him. Lily and Rebecca had left a bit earlier, satisfied that their mission was accomplished.

You got up and tried to corral your drunk friend out of the club. He didn't want to cooperate, though.

“No, YN, I don’t want to go home! I missed you, dance with me!” He reached out to grab your waist, his hands wandering up and down your body.

“Franco, you’re drunk,” you said, moving out of his grip. “I’m calling an Uber and getting you home.”

It’s not like his touch was unwelcome. But you were in public and he was inebriated, unable to consent to what he was actually doing. You knew it was time to go.

You finally dragged him outside as you waited for the Uber on the corner. You hoped the cool night air would sober him up a bit.

“Have I told you that you look fucking gorgeous tonight?” he slurred. You ignored him as you watched the little car icon drive closer and closer.

“I always loved that dress on you,” he continued, “but it’d look better off of you.”

“Our Uber is here!” you said through your blush.

But even in the Uber, he was relentless.

“I missed youuuuu” he cooed in your ear.

“I missed you too, but could you not be a whore for 5 minutes?” you laughed. You hoped the humor would distract him. He lowered his voice to a husky whisper.

“But YNNNNN, I want you so fucking badly. Every part of you, even the parts that you’re ashamed of—fuck, especially those parts. I want to know the version of you that you’re scared to be. I want you to use me like a toy to get what you want. And when I read what you wrote I was… fuck, I couldn’t stop myself. Every day I’d read it and touch myself and wish it was you. God, I just need to fuck you so badly—“ he practically moaned in your ear as his hand again reached to your waist.

You grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. His doe eyes looked up at you, deceptively innocent, hiding behind them the true depths of his lust.

You moved his hand away and let go. He was silent and still.

“Franco, you are drunk. I am going to get you home and you are going to get some rest.”

“I know you’re mad at me. You should be, I’m a fucking idiot,” he slurred. “But you can take it out on me, on my body—“

“Franco! We are in public,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Is being horny a crime? You can arrest me, put me in restraints—”

The Uber pulled up in front of your apartment and you wasted no time getting Franco out of the car and up the stairs. You made sure to tip the driver well.

Franco didn’t even let up as he collapsed on your bed, dizzy from stumbling up the stairs and into your apartment. He grabbed you, pulling you back to the bed, burying his face in your hair.

“You smell so good,” he muttered. You wrestled free from his grip, throwing a pillow back at him playfully.

“I am not going to fuck you when you’re this drunk. Get changed and go to sleep.”

He pouted, but complied, undressing agonizingly slowly behind you. You had turned away to give him privacy, but your mind wandered as you heard the shuffling of his clothes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he apologized, still behind you.

“You didn’t,” you said, and it was true; you loved that he wanted you, just…not in that setting. “Just sleep it off. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, come here,” he said, patting the side of the bed. You turned and jumped, seeing that instead of changing into the pair of old pajamas that he had left at your place many months ago that you had laid out for him, he had just stripped down to his underwear.

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face turning a bright red. “Put some clothes on.”

“But it’s hot in here!”

“Then I’ll take the couch.”

“YN just snuggle with me—”

You cut him off by closing the bedroom door.

A few hours later, you were convinced that you had the world’s most uncomfortable couch. You couldn’t sleep a bit.

You filled the hours by scrolling on your phone. The F1 gossip pages were calling your name.

The reappearance of YN! The former friend (and suspected ex girlfriend) of Williams reserve driver Franco Colapinto was featured in a post from a nightclub in Madrid with current Williams wags Lily Muni He and Rebecca Donaldson. Several attendees also caught videos of her dancing with a mysterious man that is definitely not Franco. YN hasn’t been publicly seen since the 2024 Brazilian Grand Prix, which fans assume has something to do with Franco’s fling with a controversial Argentine actress.

Above the caption was a slideshow: the pictures of you, Lily, and Rebecca on the first slide, and the next being a video of you dancing with the creep. You cringed at the memory.

The top comment made you chuckle: I can’t believe Franco fumbled his 2025 seat AND a baddie.

You scrolled to the next post.

Former F1 driver for Williams, Franco Colapinto, spotted in a nightclub in Madrid getting very handsy with best friend YN!

The two have not been seen together since the Brazilian Grand Prix in 2024. At the time, fans speculated that the two were dating, but sources close to the driver reported that a falling out regarding Franco’s dating controversies during the season led him to cancel her VIP pass for the last triple header.

But luckily for Franco x YN shippers, the pair seem to be quite comfortable with each other again. Do you think they’ll make it official soon? Comment your opinion below!

Fuck. Someone had gotten a video of you trying to get Franco out of the club, and without context, it looked bad.

You were pushing him off of you, yes, but not because you didn’t want his touch. You were just afraid of this exact scenario happening. You prayed a silent apology for his manager.

Your scrolling was interrupted by the sound of Franco waking up and stumbling into your kitchen for a glass of water. Even with only a few hours of rest, he had slept off the drunkenness, but was left with a horrific hangover.

You probably should have just pretended to be asleep until he went back to bed. But, against your better judgement, you got up to meet him at your kitchen counter.

He still hadn’t put any clothes on. Typical.

“You alive there?” you joked.

He downed his entire glass of water. “Barely,” he grimaced. “Worth it, though.”

You gave him a half smile. “You’re probably gonna have a million notifications from your manager. I tried my best.” You handed him your phone to watch the video.

“Jesus, that’s how I looked? I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mind. But it’s a good thing that you probably don’t remember what you said.”

“Oh no, I remember.” You blushed. “And I don’t regret a word. I meant everything I said.”

“Franco, when we were in the Uber, you said I could use your body as a toy.” You cringed as you repeated his words back to him.

“I know. Offer still stands.”

“Franco…”

“YN, be honest with me. If I was sober, and we were alone, what would you have done?”

You swallowed. He was sober. You were alone.

He saw the thoughts cross your eyes. He broke the space between you walking to the other side of the counter. He pulled you in by the waist until all that separated you was the thin fabric of your pajamas and his underwear.

The breath had been taken from you. “Talk to me,” he said. You couldn’t. The anxiety choked you. “YN, I’m tired of pretending like I don’t want you.”

“Don’t do this to me, Franco,” you pleaded. “I want this but … we shouldn’t.” You looked away. You couldn’t handle the intensity of his gaze

“Why not?”

“Because… we just made up. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m here to stay. Trust me. If I promise that everything will be okay, will you trust me?”

You paused. “… I can’t. I don’t trust you. Not yet, at least.”

You had to be honest with him, but it broke your heart to say those words. You didn't know yet if he was genuine, or if his fling with the actress hadn't worked out and he was using you as a placeholder. The thought made you want to puke.

He loosened his grip on you. Your words felt like a thousand knives going through his chest, but he knew he was going to have to face the very real consequences of his actions.

“I understand,” he said. “Just let me hold you. I know my words don’t mean much anymore. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to earn back your trust, and I mean it.”

He buried his face in your hair. “Come back to bed with me.” You knew the request was innocent, so you allowed it, snuggling up into his warm chest and falling asleep as the sun began to peak in the sky outside. “I’m letting go of you. Never again,” he murmured. Both of you knew that it wasn't about the sex, or about how right you felt curled up next to him. It was something deeper, more intimate, than the bare skin that he now innocently wrapped his arm around.

When you woke up, for a moment, you thought you had dreamed the whole thing. But the soothing sound of Franco’s soft snoring proved you wrong.

Over breakfast, you laid out boundaries. You both needed to take things slowly, build up the trust that had been lost.

But when you woke up a week later on Valentine’s Day to a bouquet of pink roses on your nightstand, you couldn’t help but blush darker than the petals, remembering the reference from your diary.

Franco had planned to take you out, and of course, you wore his favorite dress.

The night was perfect—a little too perfect. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help remembering the salacious ending to that diary entry, replaying the fantasy over and over in your mind. But as he took you home for the night, Franco was ever the gentleman, perfectly keeping his hands to himself.

The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted him to touch you.

You had only made it to your apartment for a few seconds when the sight of Franco taking off his suit jacket was too much to bear. You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a frantic kiss.

He wasn’t complaining, of course.

He took your actions as a sign, gently pushing you into the wall behind you until you were pinned. His lips never left yours, instead deepening the connection, tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

When you did come up for air, there was a faint hint of your lipstick on him. He chuckled. “Mi amor, what was that?” he teased, stroking your cheek and he looked down on you. He rested his arm above your head, leaning his body into yours. You could feel both of your chests breathing heavily with a growing desire.

“I wanted you.”

“I thought you wanted to wait?” He was right. You didn’t want to rush into physical things so early. Franco had been nothing but respectful and apologetic all week, but still, only those few days had passed.

“...Yeah,” you said. You were frustrated at him. For being so fucking attractive. For making you want him so badly.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he teased, “I’m sorry that I’m so irresistible.” Only a week since you all had made up, and he was already back to reading your thoughts.

“Oh, hush.”

In the following weeks, Franco’s return to racing made resisting him a lot easier. He had asked you to come to a few races, but you had declined. The memories of his time in F1 were too fresh, the wounds not quite sealed. Besides, you didn’t want to be seen in public with him just yet. You hadn’t exactly made your relationship official—though neither of you were talking to other people—and you were anxious for the public eye to be on you again.

That was, until Franco got a very exciting phone call.

Carlos Sainz had gotten in a minor biking accident—nothing major, just a sprained wrist, but enough that he needed to take a week off to heal—so Franco would be back in his car.

When he asked you to return to the F1 paddock with him, this time, you couldn’t refuse.

So that’s how you found yourself in a hotel room with your best friend (and now sort-of boyfriend).

Before bed on Wednesday night, after a long day of meetings, he wanted nothing more than to come back to the hotel and lay in your arms. And that’s exactly what he did.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. “You nervous for tomorrow?” you asked.

“No,” he answered truthfully, “not one bit.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, I have nothing to lose. Nothing could be worse than the end of last season.”

“Franco, don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though.” He chuckled. “I can’t fuck up any worse than I already did. For a while there, I lost everything.”

You stopped playing with his hair to crane your neck down and kiss the top of his head. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

He sat up, looking you dead in the eyes, his expression as serious as it could get.

“I love you.”

You were taken aback for a moment. You had both said it back in February when you confessed, but it was different now; more real, vulnerable.

“I love you too.”

“I want you to be mine.” His gaze traced the line from your lips to your eyes, finally meeting you where you couldn’t look away.

“I already am.”

“Then I’m yours, too. And I want the world to know it.”

You finally broke the stare, looking down at the comforter. “I’m nervous about what people will say.”

“YN, who gives a fuck what they say? They’re not here. They don’t know us.” You knew, deep down, that he was right, but that did nothing to temper your anxiety.

Franco playfully grabbed you and pulled you to sit on his lap. You let out a yelp that dissolved into laughter as you saw the smile on his face.

“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re my girl, yeah?”

You smiled too. “Yeah.”

“And I'm yours. You wanna prove it?” he teased, pulling down the collar of his shirt, exposing his neck. “Show them all what’s yours, hm?”

“Franco,” you said, blushing, “everyone will see.”

“That’s the point, mi amor.”

“Your manager will kill me if you show up to media day covered in hickeys.”

“I’ll cover them up.” You knew better. He absolutely would not cover them up. He’d wear them like a badge of honor.

But Franco’s refusal to be media trained was one of the many qualities you loved about him.

“Come on, you know you want to,” he teased. He was right. Right now you wanted nothing more than to cover him in love bites, claiming him as yours.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could read you so well.

“Oh, hush,” you said, grabbing his chin to bring him into another drawn out kiss.

You trailed the kiss down to his neck, finally giving in to his request. Yes, he was yours. And now the world would see it.

You relentlessly nipped at the rough skin, enjoying the soft but labored breaths that came from Franco. You kissed his earlobes, his jaw, his collarbones, until you found that perfect spot on his neck. He gasped when your teeth met his skin, softly moaning when you gently sunk your teeth in and sucked to leave a bright red mark.

You pulled away, and his expression was one of deep wanting. Sitting on his lap, you could feel him hardening under you, desperate for whatever he could get of you.

You rested your hands on the hem of his shirt. “This is getting in my way,” you complained.

He wasted no time in taking it off.

He slid his hands under your shirt too, drawing you closer to him, burying his face in your neck and smothering it with kisses. You gently grinded down on him, giving both of you the friction you so desperately needed.

But you didn’t want to be the focus of the night. You took back control, running your hands through his hair and roughly pulling it, forcing his head back.

His doe eyes on you were full of lust. He paused for a moment.

“Sorry, was that too much?” you whispered, embarrassment beginning to flush your face bright pink.

“Oh no, I..” he panted, “I liked that a lot.”

You smiled, and went right back to your attack on his skin. He ran his hands up and down your back underneath your shirt, teasing with the clasp of your bra.

You felt his phone buzz in his pocket. You both ignored it.

“YN…” he exhaled, a breathy moan. You pulled back, seeing the red flush on his face. You could feel his excitement beneath you.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his hands tugging at your top.

You weren’t quite sure what to answer. You figured that you’d sit down and talk before your first time. You all hadn’t gone beyond heavy kissing—Franco had been respectful of your desire to wait. But it had been months now, and he’d gone above and beyond to prove that you could trust him.

His phone buzzed again. And again, you both ignored it.

“You don’t have to if you’re nervous,” he said. “We only go as far as you want.”

You nodded, silently giving him permission. He leaned in to softly press one last kiss to your lips before moving to pull off your top.

Only for his phone to ring, ruining the moment.

Your shirt remained on as he fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket and turn it off. But the caller was James Vowels.

You both saw the contact info and knew that the mood had been ruined.

“I’m sorry, amor, I have to take this—” he apologized as you climbed off of his lap and he answered the call.

As he spoke, you took a deep breath, trying to process what had just happened, and what was about to happen before you had been cockblocked by the William’s team principal.

After only a minute he hung up the call, continuing to apologize. “I’m so sorry, they need me right now.” His voice was full of urgency.

“It’s okay, go,” you assured him, your tone genuine. He placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before grabbing a Williams quarter zip from the floor to cover up the darkening marks on his neck.

He raced down to the hotel conference room, hoping that his…little problem would not be visible in what had sounded like a very important meeting. The tone in James’ voice had been one of immediacy, and Franco had no idea what to expect.

And when he finally made it to the room, he was met with faces both new and familiar: James, his manager, and…Aston Martin employees?

He made a confused face and he gave the group a cursory nod and sat down in the last remaining seat, next to his manager.

“Oh, Franco, you’re here,” James said, exhaling. “We have some exciting news.”

His manager had a smile that beamed across the room. “We’ve been talking to these lovely folks from Aston Martin,” she said, gesturing to the other side of the table. “It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but soon they’ll be putting out a statement. Fernando Alonso is retiring.”

Franco gave them a polite smile, unsure of what that information had to do with him.

“So, Aston Martin would like to offer you the seat for 2026.”

Franco felt the air leave his lungs. “I…uh…yes,” he said, too stunned to really speak. “Yes, I want it. Where do I sign?”

“Well, not so fast,” his manager responded. “We have a lot to discuss regarding the new contract, brand deals, buying you out of your Williams contract…”

But Franco was on cloud nine. His manager’s words faded into the background. He felt like heaven had opened up, and the absolute novel of a contract that now sat on the table in front of him was dropped directly there by God Himself. He could even hear the chorus of angels singing.

His presence there was merely a formality, it seemed, as the Aston Martin officials and his manager talked back and forth on minute details for what felt like hours. Nothing would be set in stone today, of course, but she wasn’t lying when she had said that a mountain of work laid ahead of them.

As the time droned on, the officials filtered out one by one, leaving only Franco and his manager alone in the conference room.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You really earned this.”

“Thank you,” he replied, genuine.

“Look, go back to your room and get some rest. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. But this is strictly confidential, you hear me? You can’t tell a single soul. Not even your own mother. Not even YN.”

“I hear you.”

“And, tomorrow, maybe cover that up better, yeah?” she said, gesturing to her neck. But Franco felt no shame.

“Well, can’t help that you all called at a very inconvenient time.”

His manager grimaced. “I didn’t need to know that. Get some rest,” she laughed, shaking her head. Even she was too happy to truly scold him.

When he finally returned to the room hours later, you had already fallen asleep waiting for him. He quietly undressed and got in bed, gently brushing your hair out of your face to gaze on your sleeping form.

You were perfect. He had gotten the seat and the girl; what else could a man ask for?

The morning was chaotic. You had both overslept.

“I’m sorry about last night, amor,” Franco said as you applied concealer to his neck. “It was urgent, and they kept me there for hours.”

“What was it about?” You gently dabbed a makeup sponge across the reddened skin.

“I can’t say. Strictly confidential. But it’s amazing, you’ll see.” He beamed, but you made a face at him. Smiling flexed his neck muscles and made it harder to cover up the evidence of your intimacy.

At the paddock, it was chaos as usual. It was the return of the Franco Colapinto—now triumphant, having had a solid season in F2 so far—and this time, he walked in with you on his arm.

The only problem was that Franco kept tugging at the neckline of his quarter zip, and the friction was causing the hastily applied makeup from the morning to smudge, revealing the marks beneath.

Thankfully, no reporters said anything. But the fans online certainly were.

Steamy! Franco Colapinto arrives today at the paddock with suspected girlfriend YN in tow, and the driver appears to have several red marks on his neck. YN and Franco have not confirmed any relationship other than being friends, and this is the first race she has attended since Brazil 2024.

COMMENT: Franco showing up to the paddock absolutely covered in hickeys was not on my 2025 bingo card

COMMENT: Okay but that is so on brand for him. This man simply does not give a fuck and I love it.

You chuckled to yourself as you read the comment. But you tensed up as you felt Franco’s manager walk up next to you. You were already anticipating the earful she’d give you.

“He’s a natural at this, ain’t he?” she asked, more a statement than a question. In the distance, Franco was making a reporter laugh.

“Yeah,” you said. Franco’s manager always made you nervous, for some reason.

“I’m so proud of him.”

“Me too.” You paused, unsure of whether to broach the subject. “You’re…unusually chipper today.”

His manager laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. But even I have to relax sometimes. I mean, he’s doing a great job.”

“I heard there was some exciting news. Franco wouldn’t tell me what, though.”

His manager’s casual smile now stretched from ear to ear. “Oh yeah, big stuff. But top secret.”

“I can’t wait to hear.”

Media day went smooth as butter. Practice 1 and 2 went perfect. With the arrival of Carlos Sainz, the Williams car had vastly improved, and Franco drove like an expert.

Such was evident by his P8 finish in qualifying the next day; his highest ever qualifying in F1.

Since your night had been interrupted the day before, your wanting of him hadn’t lessened; in fact, it had grown stronger ever since you realized how you truly were ready. But quali day had taken it out of him, and you knew he needed to rest before the Grand Prix tomorrow.

And on that next day, as you watched him climb in the car from the Williams garage, you hoped that he’d put that rest to good use. You said a prayer for his safety even more than his success.

You held your breath through each lap, silently cheering him on through the knots of nervousness in your stomach. But it seems like your prayer was working; he was gaining places, P8 to P5 only a fourth of the way into the race.

He boxed halfway, and your eyes traced the lines of his car and helmet as he pulled into eyeshot of you and sped away in only a few seconds. He wasn’t looking at you, of course, but it didn’t matter. Your heart felt like it would burst with love.

At first, you didn’t even notice the cameras capturing your sentimental expression. That was, until you glanced away from his car in the distance and looked toward the screen. You were shocked to see your own reflection, captioned with your job title and ‘Franco Colapinto’s partner.’

He really was yours, now. You smiled at the camera and waved before it cut away to the action. Franco just kept gaining. He had dropped a few places after boxing, but made up for it in no time. P4.

You could hear the commentators through your headphones.

“And really, Franco Colapinto is stunning us all here. As we all remember, he had a rather disappointing end to the 2024 F1 season, but he seems to have come back with a vengeance. A podium is a real possibility for him today.”

Your smile couldn’t be contained. He was going to do this. You knew it.

With only five laps left, he overtook for P3. The garage cheered. You cheered with them. But it wasn’t over yet. It was a tense, wheel to wheel battle. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

He was able to inch just slightly enough ahead to cinch the spot as he crossed the checkered flag.

The William’s garage erupted in applause.

You ran to meet him as he pulled up the car, catching him when he jumped into the arms of the crowd of William’s employees. He nearly ripped off his helmet and balaclava, grabbed your jaw and brought you into a rough kiss.

You broke with a smile. “I love you, I’m so proud of you!” you said, unsure if he could even hear you in the chaos.

“Te amo, YN,” he said, tears of happiness clouding the edges of his vision. He continued speaking in Spanish, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the crowd. He had to break the embrace to go to the podium.

As he stood up there, you beamed with pride below. He really had made it.

After the podium, you hid away in his driver’s room, waiting for all his media obligations to be over so you could go back to the hotel together. To pass the time, you scrolled. The internet was losing their mind over your hard launch.

And even better, people had already uploaded videos of you and Franco exchanging words of love at the barriers. His words were difficult to make out, but a few dedicated lip readers had attempted to decipher the message. But there was no internet consensus just yet.

You made a mental note to ask Franco what he had said later, but for now, you were sure he was exhausted.

Your assumption was proven correct as he walked into his driver’s room, rolling his shoulders and sighing. But upon seeing you, his face lit up. You greeted him with more hugs and words of praise.

As you both stood there, holding each other, it was like the world around you melted away.

“YN, can I tell you something?” he muttered into your hair, hand snaked around your upper back.

“Anything,” you answered, your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. You can’t let my manager know that I told you.”

You hummed in response, but he broke the hug to look at you, indicating the seriousness of his statement to come.

“I got a contract for 2026.”

Your eyes went as wide as dinner plates. You were speechless.

“Franco… that’s, oh my God, that’s amazing!” You thought you were going to burst with love for him.

“Nothing is set in stone yet,” he explained, “but she’s been negotiating the contract, and they’ll probably announce it in a few weeks.”

You reached your fingers up to run them through his curls. “You’re incredible.” He blushed.

“I think we should go back to the hotel and celebrate, hm?” he teased.

“You don’t want to go out?”

“We can if you want,” he mused, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “but I think the world has seen enough of us today, yeah?”

So you celebrated in your hotel room alone. The bottle of champagne that decorated the desk of the room was left untouched—but you sure as hell weren’t.

The podium had emboldened him. He explored the curves of your body over your clothes with reckless abandon. You wordlessly helped him remove his shirt, trailing your eyes of the muscles that were sure to be sore in a few hours. You traced the marks you had left the other day, now beginning to fade.

“My turn,” he joked, bringing his lips to your neck to give you your fair share of love bites. He brought one hand to gently hold your neck, while the other inched further and further up your shirt, teasing the edge of your bra. You felt like you could drown in his touch. You closed your eyes and fell deep into bliss.

“YN,” he whispered, “are you sure you want to do this? Are we ready?”

You swallowed, nervous. “Yes.”

But he could sense your anxiety, and was hesitant to continue. He pulled back, raking his eyes up and down your form. You couldn’t help your nervousness. But having read your darkest fantasies, he knew what you really wanted.

“You know, the reason I read your diary is because I knew there was something about you that you try so desperately to hide,” he said, his voice soft and smooth as honey. “I wanted to know whatever part of you that you try to hide away from the rest of the world,” he let his hands trace down the length of your arm, and leaned in closer to whisper in your ear, “and that part of you is that you’re a needy girl who’s desperate to get fucked.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulgarity of his words, a side to him you’d never seen.

He brought his hand from your arm to your neck, gently tracing the curve towards your chin. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course.”

His voice was soft and tender, but when his hand grabbed your chin and forced you to face him, his expression was anything but. “You just needed a man who can fuck you like the desperate girl you are.” Your eyes widened at his words, and you could feel the warmth rush to your cheeks in a rosy blush.

His eyes met yours. “Just say the word, mi amor. Do you trust me? Will you let me fuck you like you want… no, like you need to be fucked so badly? I can do it. I’m not afraid. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of…” His voice trailed off as he turned his head and closed the gap between you, placing his lips right below your ear. The kiss was soft and made you release your breath. “Say it, YN. Tell me you want this as bad as I do.”

“You really want this?” you said, your voice almost trembling with anticipation.

His lips near your ear were going to be the death of you. “Of course. Can’t you feel how badly I do?” he whispered. You could feel him beneath you, hardening with every second that went past. You imagined the feeling of grinding your hips down on his length, recalling the memories of only a few days before.

Oh God, how badly you wanted to. You wanted to give him everything. You could feel his soft breath on your neck, his hands now resting on your waist, tentatively waiting for your permission to resume roaming the curves of your body. But your breath was caught in your throat.

“Franco…” The soft exhalation of his name was all you can muster. “What, amor?” he replied. You swallowed and closed your eyes, knowing your next word would let the floodgates of your desire open.

“Please.”

His lips met your neck in a kiss that was tentative at first, like you were something fragile that could be broken by his touch. But the feeling of his soft lips finally meeting your skin caused you to draw in a breath.

“You want to take the lead, or should I?” he asked.

“You,” you answered simply, too distracted by the absolutely heavenly feeling of his velvet lips on your neck.

He hummed in response. “If you ever want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“I will.”

He placed one final kiss on your neck and helped you take off your top. You felt his eyes undressing you more than his hands.

He wordlessly turned you around to sit on his lap, your back against his chest. His hands traced lower and lower down your stomach until they met the lacy waistband of your shorts.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take these off for me?” he purred.

“Why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” You could tease him right back. He let out a dark laugh, kissing your neck from behind.

“Little brat…” he cooed, but you took no offense. He slid your shorts off, and you were left with only your bra and panties. He ran his hands up and down your now exposed stomach. His touch was warm and inviting as it traced down to the now wet fabric of your panties.

He began slowly, just tracing the skin through the fabric, inching lower and lower. He could already feel how wet you were. “Doesn’t take that much to get you going, hm? So wet just from my words.”

You blushed in embarrassment at his teasing. “Shut up…”

“Oh, amor,” he kissed your cheek, your face now turning away from him. “It’s okay. I know how badly you needed this.”

You let out a breathy moan as he began to outline your pussy with the feather-light touch of his fingers. He tentatively dipped his fingers under the fabric, spreading them around your growing wetness as he circled your clit.

Slowly and carefully, he put a finger inside you curling it up to hit that sweet spot. With his other hand, he roughly groped at your chest. He unclasped your bra with one hand, tossing it across the room, and let his free hand paw at your chest and circle your nipple.

“See, bébé, what a reward you get when you use your words and tell me what you want?”

“Yes,” you moaned, breathy and full of desire.

“And what do you want?” he asked.

“I want… you.” The words stuck in your throat, your mind too preoccupied with the pleasure of his thumb swirling softly around your clit and the two fingers now pumping in and out of you. You were vulnerable, at his mercy, but you trusted him.

“You want me to…?”

“I want you to… to fuck me.”

“Good girls get what they want. You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Can you do one more thing for me?” He smirked, removing his hand from your sensitive bundle of nerves. You already missed the friction.

“Yes, anything,” you promised.

“Get on your knees for me.”

You obeyed. The sight of you on your knees below him, gazing at home longingly with your big doe eyes, made his cock twitch. But he saw something beyond obedience in your face.

He knelt down next to you. “Are you still nervous?” he asked.

You laughed. “I’m always nervous.”

He brushed your hair out of your face, removing all the barriers between the two of you. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. I’m just… not as experienced as you. What if I'm not good?”

“You’ve already been so good for me,” he said, cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll guide you.”

You watched him with your innocent eyes as he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and took off his pants. You dug your knees into the pillow beneath you as he shed his last remaining layer of clothing.

He had no right to tease you for being so wet, when his own arousal coated him. His cock was dripping precum, so hard that it nearly hurt.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, and again, you obeyed. He gently led you to him as you pressed your tongue to the bottom of his length and licked up to the sensitive head.

He moaned. “I don’t think you need any help, do you?” You just hummed as your tongue traced the lines of his veins up and down his shaft, before you took as much of him as you could, closing your mouth to trap him in the warmth.

He grabbed your hair to gently guide you to a good rhythm. You looked at him in admiration, but his head was thrown back, eyes closed in bliss.

He moved your head faster, and you gagged a bit at his cock filling your mouth. You dug your hands into his thighs. Franco cursed in Spanish under his breath.

Soon, he pulled you away. You were embarrassed. Did you do something wrong?

“God, you feel too good. I can’t finish yet. I want to take my time with you.” He led you back to the bed, finally taking time to gaze at your form laid bare before him.

For a moment, he was silent, just taking in the sight of you. “You’re beautiful, YN.”

You blushed. “You don’t need to flatter me, you already got in my pants,” you joked.

“It’s not flattery,” he replied as he crossed the room to grab a condom from his bag and put it on, “it’s true.”

He returned to the bed, climbing on top of you. “You’re perfect. Every part of you.”

The vulnerable praise made you uncomfortable. “Franco…”

“Touch me, amor.” You obeyed, bringing your hands to his broad shoulder, bracing for what you knew would come next.

“You may not think you’re beautiful, but I do. And I’ll make love to you as many times as I need to until you believe it.”

You blushed and brought your hands to your face. You were not immune to his Argentine charm. He gently pulled your hands away, kissing your wrists, so he could see your face.

As he guided himself to your entrance, he slowly and carefully slid inside you with a deep groan. His eyes rolled back into his head at the heavenly feeling of your pussy, and your breath hitched.

He stopped to give you a moment to adjust to his length. You felt filled and warm; all his.

For a moment he just stayed there, still, looking down at the sight of you stuffed with his cock, ready to be ravished.

“You alright?” he asked, softly tracing circles along your hips with his hands. You nodded through the sweet burn of being stretched on him.

But he could feel the tension in you. “Just relax, YN,” he cooed at you. “I’m going to take good care of you, hm?”

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead and you whined. He whispered something in Spanish, too fast and incoherent for you to understand, but with a soft enough tone to recognize the love behind the gesture.

His thrusts at first were slow and shallow, giving you time to adjust. As he gently fucked you, he leaned down to softly whisper sweet nothings into your ears. You felt safe in his arms.

But soon the softness faded away into lust. You both wanted it, and you showing him by how you sang a chorus of noises the faster he fucked you. His rough thrusts brought forth sinful noises from the both of you, lost in your pleasure. “It’s okay, YN. I know how badly you needed this,” he cooed, his own breath strained. “And I needed it too. I needed to feel you wrapped around me. You feel so fucking good, so tight and wet.”

His words weren’t lost on you. “Fuck, Franco…” you begged between his thrusts. You dug your nails into his back as he continued his unrelenting pace.

“Talk to me, pretty girl,” he said, slowing down for a moment. “You okay? Is it good?”

“So good,” you responded. “Don’t stop.”

He wordlessly continued, pumping his full length into you with reckless abandon. You were sure that your nails in his back would draw blood with how roughly you clung to him.

All you could do was take it, all of him, and let the moans and gasps fall from your lips with every touch.

As he sped up, his tone changed, becoming something rougher. He was clearly emboldened by the noises that left your mouth with every movement.

“I love hearing your pretty little noises. I want you to scream for me. Fucking scream my name,” he commanded. You didn’t have the strength in you, too distracted by how good he felt, burying his cock in you.

“F- Franco,” you gasped. He pulled back so you could see him and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him directly in the eyes.

“What’s that, love? Did you say something, or am I fucking you too good that you can’t even speak properly?”

“Franco, I—” you were cut off by your own whine, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed at you, “let go. Cum for me.”

You wanted nothing more than to obey him, and you came closer to the edge hearing his command.

“I want you to look at me when I make you cum,” he instructed. You nodded at him.

But he slowed his pace down to a torturously slow speed, savoring how every inch of him went in and out of your drenched pussy.

Even with his switch, you could feel that knot in your stomach tightening, threatening to explode as you held his intense gaze. Any self consciousness you would have had was cast aside by your desperate need to obey him.

And when he moved his hand from your hips down to your sensitive clit and began to rub, you couldn’t help but follow his command, climaxing in his arms.

He held you as you let the waves of pleasure come over you, not letting up his soft assault on your bundle of nerves. Even as you began to buck your hips involuntarily from the sensitive touch, he just whispered, “It’s okay, mi amor. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He softly shushed your whimpers of pleasure, gently running his free hand up and down your curves. “Are you okay to keep going? Because you know I’m not done with you yet.”

You didn’t know if you could handle any more, but you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him to stop. You’d waited too long for this, wanted it too badly, to go back now.

You nodded, so he kept going, hitting every spot inside you just right, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. He was careful not to overwhelm you, taking an even and steady pace, but neither of you could help so heavenly it felt to have him inside of you.

Franco chased his own release, sitting up so he could see your whole body as he fucked you. He held onto your hips hard enough to leave marks, but you’d gladly wear them with pride.

It didn’t take long for him to pull out and rip off the condom, pumping his hand up and down his length.

“YN, I’m so fucking close,” he moaned. “Where—”

You didn’t answer him, just leaning down to take him in your mouth. He grabbed the back of your head, roughly pushing you closer to him.

“Don’t stop, you’re gonna make me cum, don’t—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence before he climaxed, filling your mouth and letting out a low and low groan.

You pulled away from him and swallowed the stickiness that coated your mouth.

He collapsed on the bed next to you. “Fuck, YN.” You laid down next to him. “That was so good.” His chest was still heaving with the intensity of his orgasm.

But as he turned to you, the lust left him, growing into something softer as he brushed your hair out of your face. You were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“You okay?” he asked.

You hummed and nodded, closing your eyes and leaning into him, taking in the smell of sex and his cologne. You couldn’t get close enough to him.

He kissed the top of your head. “I’ve got you,” he assured. You were too overwhelmed to say anything. He just held you.

Eventually, you both got up to take a shower before you both got ready for bed. Snuggled close to him, you felt the quiet warmth of his presence protecting you, and it lulled you to sleep quicker than anything else ever could.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you checked your phone. The internet sleuths had finally deciphered what Franco had said to you—a heartachingly sweet confession of love. He had said you were his life, his everything. He couldn’t have done it without you.

Within the thin crack of light from blinds and the streetlights outside, you could see Franco’s backpack, with your diary still in it. If you wanted to, you could have stolen it back. But instead, you left it be, snuggling deeper into the bed to get close to the man you loved who slept peacefully beside you.

It was true that more work needed to be done until you all could fully communicate with no difficulties—no language barriers, no journals, just heartfelt words. But you knew you both could do it. You loved each other too much to not.

So you smiled as you felt his arm sleepily wrap around you and pull you close. You were safe. You were home.

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ubeb0nes · 1 day ago

Text

Sevika x Fem!Bar Owner!Reader - The One Who Pours the Drinks

Pt. 3 (can be read as standalone)

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Summary: After their (very homosexually-charged) estrangement a few weeks ago, Angel tries to bury the sour Sevika left in her heart. Sevika does the same, dismissing any meaning to be found in how she still makes sure to walk by the Five-Copper Furnace at least twice a week.

But one thing remains true: No one threatens the one who pours the drinks.

a/n: i'm a dirty filthy liar, i finished pt. 3 for bar owner reader before i even started my warmup for writing sevika's character LMFAO. will still do that prompt at some point!!

w/c: like 4.3k ish

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The world doesn’t stop spinning because of one person.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

And you had a business to run.

You did your best to count your lucky stars every night, reminding yourself as you wiped down the bar that there were other people. Plenty of women with smokey laughs and eyes like the moon. You were a good-looking bastard, you’d find the next one. You had all the time in the world now, away from the strife that used to follow you like a shadow.

Pay no mind to how you always swiped harder at the bar as you had these thoughts, slamming tumblers and plates into their places beneath the bar with extra vigor. Nor to how Zaun was about as different from Bilgewater as steel to iron.

Sevika’s men and their presence started to dwindle with hers, albeit more slowly; many of them almost seemed hesitant, apologetic. You caught one of them on your way into the bar to open it for the evening.

“I’m real sorry, Angel,” he’d said.

“I’m sure she’s got other work for you,” you said, waving him off as if it was- and indeed, it was- nothing personal. You only had problems with one ex-frequent of your bar. You weren’t even all that inclined to include the heavy muscle she brought in with her on the last visit.

“Always other work where the boss is concerned,” he affirmed, “But… this has been one of the better gigs.” You stayed static outside your bar for a moment as he walked away, your key still stuck in the lock.

It’s not like you needed protection in the first place, you were more than capable. Not that Sevika knew that. You grumbled to yourself as you organized the prep area behind the bar; you hadn’t had to give much mind to security the past several months, Sevika handled the matter in its entirety without you so much as having to ask.

You’d have to add that back into your list of tasks. Along with putting all the stools up at closing time. And what were you supposed to do with all these damn cigarillos you had behind the counter? You didn’t smoke nearly as much as she did.

You smacked a hand that wasn’t yours away from the aforementioned stash, smirking when you heard a small, “Ow, jerk!”

“You’re not old enough to smoke.”

“It’s Zaun, babies would smoke if they could,” the boy, a little tail of yours named Kix, retorted, pouting as he hopped up on the counter. You sighed. “I finished that book you gave me.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“Pretty good! And, I think, as a reward for finishing it, I should-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” you said, stepping away to move the lemons you just sliced into a container. Your tail, of course, followed.

“Fine, can I at least finally get a knife?”

“When you can wield one of those batons without smacking yourself in the face, yeah. ‘Til then, hell no.”

“That’s a bad word!”

“Like you care!” You could only breathe out a laugh. The children of Zaun were sharp, often leaving you deeply amused and incredulous.

“Ugh,” he said dramatically, flailing against the bar. You shot one of your patrons an apologetic look at the antics of Stray Wet Cat #1. “But you have so many, Angel!” He exclaimed, “How’d you get those anyway? Did you kill somebody?”

I killed a lot of people, you wanted to say, but something told you that wouldn’t have been appropriate. “I told you before, Kix,” you started, voice gentle like a teacher’s, “Zaun isn’t the only place in the world where you need to defend yourself. The world is way bigger.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered to himself, pushing away from the bar and trudging back to the lounge area connected to the kitchen, where a few of the other kids spent their time. You frowned as you watched him walk away, then looked down at the paring knife in your right hand.

For the children of Zaun, life depended on which end of the knife you found yourself on, and oftentimes nothing more. How much were you really doing for them, giving them sandwiches to eat and rudimentary lessons on how to hold a blade? They all had to leave the bar at the end of each day, stepping back into the streets waiting to swallow them whole on their treks back home.

“Don’t be so hard on ya’self, Ang’,” the patron you’d shared a look with earlier interjected. You looked up at him in a daze, quickly putting on a thoughtful smile.

“I’m okay,” you replied simply.

“And so are those kids, thanks to you,” he said, “A little bit goes a long way in Zaun. These kids can stretch an inch of kindness, always have been able to.”

You saw eyes like slate in your mind as the gentleman went back to nursing his drink, and your smile faltered.

Weren’t these the kids Sevika claimed to be doing her righteous work for? What could she tell them as she chipped away at their safe haven, showing up bi-weekly just to take away a little more? You growled lowly as you swiped a cigarillo from beneath the counter, abiding the thought to linger in your mind- as if you could condition yourself to hate her faster.

You were busy staring down the end of the cigarillo as you lit it, almost too busy to notice how a wave of quiet had washed over the Five-Copper Furnace. Your eyes flicked to the door just in time, though.

Your busy mind halted all thoughts more trivial than the now, a low voice reminding you of the shotgun beneath your bar, the knives in your sleeves, and the preeminent experience in violence that scarred your skin. Four men wearing all manners of weapons, and gleaming belt buckles of meridian silver, stalked into your bar.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

Sevika was, for whatever reason, a woman well-versed in the department of odd and unwanted talents. Being weirdly good with kids was at the forefront.

“Oh! Captain-General Metal Arm Lady!” Well, she knew which kid that was*.*

“Why is my name so long?” She muttered to herself as she stopped anyway, and turned on her heel to face him. The boy, one of Angel’s little henchmen named Kix, skidded to a stop in front of her. “What is it, kid?” She asked gruffly.

“Where’ve you been? Are you and Angel having a lover’s quarrel?”

Isn’t he like twelve?? Sevika picked her jaw up from the ground as quickly as it’d fallen. “Who the hell even taught you what that is?” She asked incredulously.

“That’s a bad word. And I read it in a book. Are you coming to the Five-Copper?”

“No, I’m busy,” Sevika said flatly. Her brow furrowed at the way his face fell. Not like a child who’d been told no, but a boy who had something to fear. “…Why?”

“Well, uh… m-maybe you could just stop by?” He rocked back on his heels, looking over his shoulder at the bar in question. He’d caught Sevika so close to the place, he just needed to get her through the door… “I think Angel might… u-um…”

Sevika sighed. “Before tomorrow, Kix.”

“I think Angel might need you.”

Sevika scoffed, turning with a small flare of her cloak (drama queen), “She’s a big girl, she can handle herself just fine, kid. I gotta go.” A small, surprised grunt rose out of her when she felt a tug on her metal arm. She looked down at the boy, shooting him a glare that lacked even an inch of fire.

“Please, Miss Sevika! A bunch of guys just walked in and I don’t know them, a-and they have really ugly, scary faces, and-”

“Okay! Okay. C’mon, let’s go,” Sevika rattled her arm out of Kix’s grasp, sweeping it back beneath her cloak. The boy let out a small cheer as her broad form turned in the direction of the Five-Copper Furnace, and he fell into step under the cover of her shadow. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Sevika’. Just Sevika is alright,” she made a small, grossed-out sound.

“Okay! Does that mean we’re friends?”

“No,” she replied, giving his head a small nudge as they walked.

“Ack! Bully!”

The smile that began to flicker across her features promptly melted back into her perpetual frown as she watched almost half a dozen patrons leave the Five-Copper in succession. “How many of them were there, kid?” She asked in a low voice.

“Uh, I think four?”

Sevika hummed, stopping beside the entrance. She pulled Kix aside by the collar with her, as even more patrons filed out. “Are your friends in there?” She asked. The boy nodded. “Okay. Go get ‘em through the back. And go home.”

“But-!”

“Uh-uh. She’s already pissed at me enough, can’t imagine how mad she’d be if you brats got hurt once this goes down.”

“So…” Sevika felt a few grey hairs grow in at the same time Kix’s frown faded into a grin, “…it is a lover’s quarrel?”

“Kix!”

“Okay, bye Sevika!” He hopped up and down as if to charge himself up before sprinting off. Sevika watched as he nearly tripped over himself when he quickly halted again. “Uh… you won’t let them hurt Angel, right?”

“She’ll be fine,” Sevika said. She sighed as his feet stayed planted in the ground. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, “You have my word, kid. Angel will be okay.” He gave her a final grin, before darting off. Sevika cracked her neck as she zeroed back on the entrance to Angel’s bar. “Guess collections is early this month,” she muttered wryly, before pushing the door open.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

“These people don’t even know, do they?”

You breathed out tendrils of smoke from your nose, lowering your voice in line with the bounty hunter’s. His friends had stayed mute, opting to survey your patrons and the bar itself like three angry lighthouses.

You smiled slightly at those who hadn’t left yet, whose postures were coiled tightly like metal springs.

“I can’t imagine it’d change a thing,” you replied. You picked up the wanted poster (old fashioned, you were aware) he’d thrown on the counter, giving it another flippant once-over. Your likeness had been- rather skillfully- illustrated in the center, with meaningless words like ‘Wanted’ and ‘approach with care’ swimming around it.

God, I’m good-looking, you thought with a smile and a nod.

“And yet you have ‘em call you a different name. Bury your old one with the rest of your money, huh?”

“Oh, that isn’t buried. Not one bit,” Your face spread into a grin, wolfish teeth crushing the filter of the cigarillo. You saw the hunger that flickered in his eyes, a greed so romantically entwined with the people of Bilgewater that men died for it. Like this one would.

“Well, good to know! Between that and the hundred Golden Krakens on your head, you’ll make a fine cashout,” the rancid man said, “Angel.”

Your eyes widened slowly, mockingly. “A hundred Golden Krakens?” You echoed, “…Can I turn myself in?” Your eyes flicked casually to the door as you heard it open once again.

“Very funny. Now…”

Whatever the hunter had to say ceased to matter as you watched her walk in. Wide shoulders curved inwards, entering with the same intent your remaining customers all had. Sevika met your eyes immediately.

On one hand, not only was your safety further secured, but a return in a casket to your old city was all but out of the question now. Sevika wouldn’t let you die, at the very least, you knew that much.

On the other hand… Sevika was in your bar. Your eyes narrowed at her, and you gave her a look that practically screamed ‘piss off’ in spite of your other senses relaxing. She shook her head at you, matching your rising agitation with an annoyed curl of her lip.

Kix, she mouthed. Oh, thanks, kid. What a wingman.

You would’ve found it silly the way she stuck to the walls as she moved through the bar. Trying to get closer to you, you realized. A hand slamming down on the table and another grabbing your collar brought your attention back to more pressing matters.

Sevika felt her heart jump higher in her chest, and she resisted the urge to rush right to you and pluck that man’s head from the rest of him. A firm hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her, and she leveled her gaze with the fool who’d stepped in her line of view.

“We called dibs on this job, you’re too late,” the hunter said. Sevika furrowed her brows in brief confusion, but the pieces came together quickly in a mind as sharp as hers.

Bounty hunters? For you?

He gave her shoulder a shove, and Sevika let herself be moved. Some distance to deploy her left arm’s blade, good. “Go on,” he growled.

A scream from the bar counter swiveled all heads in that direction.

Sevika’s eyes widened as your name started to rise in her throat, until she saw the main perpetrator sink like a stone in water… his hand left behind in your grasp. You wiped the knife on your apron, throwing your still-burning cigarillo at him as he writhed on the floor.

Sevika threw her cloak to the ground before her sensibilities turned to steel.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

You would’ve made a fine alchemist, if you hadn’t chosen the more profitable industry of alcoholism instead.

You also would’ve been far less likely to have ever encountered Sevika and the all-consuming rage she inspired in you if you’d started an Apothecary. What with her- very much expected- aversion to seeking out any medical assistance of any sort.

“Ow.”

“Stay still.”

“Ow.” Sevika hissed when you pressed the tonic-doused cloth to her wound with the exact same vigor as before, thrashing away from you. You sat up straight, leveling her with a look that seethed with your indignance.

“You’re acting like a wuss.”

“And you’re acting like a child who didn’t get her way,” she snapped. Your eye twitched, and so you closed them to take a moment to gather yourself.

You missed the way Sevika’s gaze fell slowly to your lap, eyes creasing as she frowned at your battered hands. You hadn’t had time to pull your gun from beneath the bar before shit went down, and so you’d resorted to hacking with hand and blade. Sevika had been at your back like a magnet, sticking to you and letting the hunters come to her. You’d held your own valiantly.

She only serviced you a lukewarm glare as you moved back to her, this time gently easing the cloth onto her wounded cheek. You held her in place by the other side of her face. “You can take a punch but not a wound disinfectant,” you quipped.

“I took more than just a punch recently, princess.” Sevika side-eyed you when your touch faltered, letting out a shallow huff from her nose.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered.

“Who the hell were those guys? What could they possibly want with you?” Sevika asked. You jutted your lip at her in annoyance when her movements shifted the cloth.

She looked down to ponder the fight from a few hours ago (the lower floor was still an absolute wreck, but that was a problem for you to deal with tomorrow). Silver teeth; and weaponry not at all reminiscient of anything you’d find in Zaun, or Piltover. They had moved with an erratic tick to their attacks, not completely unlike the Shimmer-dependent henchmen Silco kept; although their addiction ran strictly red.

“They weren’t Zaunites,” she mused aloud.

“…No. They weren’t. They were from Bilgewater.”

You freed your other hand to reach for your wanted poster you’d nabbed before heading upstairs, and handed it to Sevika. There was a hanging silence between you as she read the same words over and over again.

“They got your likeness wrong,” she said. You pursed your lips, waiting. “Your head is bigger than that.”

“Shut up.”

Sevika chuckled; or at least gave a limp attempt at it. Her hand holding the poster fell with a soft crunch as she sighed. You let your own hands rest in your lap as she closed her eyes, and leaned her head over the back of your couch.

She had such a pretty neck. The lines of that strange scar were like wisps of blue smoke on her skin. You wanted to reach out to touch them, to thank her sweetly for defending you even as you spat fire on her wounds. You wanted to kiss all the smooth and rough patches you could see, lull her into a soft sleep-

“This is gonna get back to Silco in a couple of days tops.”

You scoffed. “What, is he gonna raise my rent? Doesn’t he have a revolution to claim to run?”

Deep down, you were impressed with what Sevika let you get away with saying to her. Inadvertently discounting her life’s work was no small thing, and you’d seen her put others on the ground for less. It was even more surprising when she gave a real answer to your poor-faithed question.

“You should’ve kept your head low. And let me deal with it. Not- cut a guy’s hand off.” She shook her head, rubbing her forehead. You opened your mouth to refute your lost honor, but she beat you to it, “You’re too… competent. He’ll wanna bring you in now. And you’re no good to the Undercity if he pockets you.”

You’re about to ask her why the hell does she work for him then, but another piece clicks into place before the words surface. Sevika watches the realization cross your face. “So that’s why you…”

“Trust me,” Sevika took hold of your wrist as she raised her head to stare scrutinizingly at your wall, and guided you to press the cloth back to her face. “The collections I take from you are cheaper than really being under his heel. You should see what he takes from that Sheriff up in Piltover.” She breathed out a humorless laugh. Your eyes widened, as the scope of Silco’s reach did too. **

You were a fool. Had going straight truly dulled your cunning mind? (Or was it just the handsome woman sitting in your living room…)

“That’s the discounted price too, by the way,” she muttered. You were pulled from your thoughts with a soft laugh.

“I knew you were fond of me.”

“I like what you do for the kids.”

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, surveying the injury on her face and deeming it sufficiently stabilized to move onto the next. You were glad, at least, that the brunt of the pain had been inflicted on you two rather than your good-willed customers.

Sevika’s brow furrowed as she watched you go through the motions of prepping her next injury. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she let you drag her upstairs in the first place; the way you coupled your attentive- if not presumptuous- touch with barbed jabs at her gall for walking into your bar should’ve pissed her off. But she let you move her like you were a breeze.

Your movements were practiced, like you’d spent a whole lifetime sweeping up the broken pieces of stupid, pointless fights. Sevika looked down at the wanted poster again. “…How much is 100 Golden Krakens?” She asked.

You hummed as you tried to think of the best comparison in Zaun’s economy, “Probably eightteen months’ worth of what I make running the bar.”

“Janna-”

You laughed heartily as you carefully peeled the wax paper from a bandage. Subconsciously, you rubbed over the wound once it was patched to soothe the ache, not noticing how Sevika’s gaze immediately went to your nimble hand. “Why, you thinkin’ about turning me in?” You teased.

“Funny,” she deadpanned, “Would be one less pain in the ass for me, though.” She gave you a pointed onceover. Her feigned exasperation melted into a grin when you slapped her leg (albeit very weakly).

“You just said you like me!”

“That isn’t what I said,” she said, still feigning dismissal so smugly. You hated how well she wore a petty smirk, or how pretty her teeth were when she gleaned a real smile.

(You wanted to kiss that stupid look right off her face.)

Instead, all you did was roll your eyes, collapsing on the opposite end of the couch. In Sevika’s mind, she just won that encounter.

“You mind if I smoke?”

You waved your hand, looking out the window of your kitchen, “Worse has happened in my house today.” She didn’t pull your gaze back to her until you heard her shifting around for a longer amount of time than it should’ve taken for someone to find a cig and lighter. “Lose your lighter?” You mocked, taking in the cigarillo hanging out of her mouth as she patted down her pockets with mild frustration on her face.

“One of the bastards must have knocked it out of my pack,” she said with an agitated sigh. Her eyes perked up at the metal clink of… your lighter. You laid your head back against the arm of the couch, resting the open lighter slightly above your abdomen. Sevika’s breath caught as she realized how close she’d have to get to you- how close you’d make her get to you- to get a light.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare as they slid up to meet your gaze. She wasn’t about to make a coward of herself now, though. She held your expectant stare as she leaned down between your legs, one of her hands boldly bracing on your shin with a slight squeeze. She cupped her hand protectively around yours as she lit the end of her cigarillo. The way your eyes widened and your chest stopped rising with breath wasn’t lost on her.

I take it back, Kix, she thought, I don’t think she’s all that pissed.

She turned her head to the side as she blew smoke from her mouth. “Tell me something,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. You had to fight with your own goddamn eyes to tear away from the small puffs of smoke that left her mouth as she spoke. You cocked a brow. “Were you a pirate or something?” She asked. Her eyes widened slightly when you met her with silence. “Oh, sweet hell…”

“Don’t laugh!”

She laughed. You loved that she did.

“That was… a long time ago,” you waved your hand like you could bat the memories away, but they’d never felt more with you than today. You had nearly forgotten how easy it was to snatch someone’s life away. You’d made a fortune on it once, and yet… the muscle of ruthlessness had grown weak and disoriented with lack of exercise. You frowned to yourself, shaking your head. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

Sevika shrugged, taking another drag. “We don’t choose where life puts us,” she replied. You shouldn’t have been surprised by such a… thoughtful sentence leaving her mouth. But your brows still raised slightly as you looked at her. “I’m not gonna be the one to judge you around here.”

You frowned, guilt jabbing in your gut. “But I did you.”

“Maybe you weren’t wrong for it,” she retorted softly. Your eyes widened. She inhaled softly before continuing, swiveling her gaze to meet yours again. “I used to try an’ push Silco to do more for the kids. Get books smuggled in in between all the Shimmer requisitions,” she scoffed, shaking her head. Your heart squeezed as you watched her carefully begin to pull the curtains around her true self back- for you. “Give people resources, just… something. I didn’t realize I let four years go by ‘til I saw you doing all that for the kids the moment you touched down here.”

You sighed, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch to rub your face with both hands. “You really think I won’t be able to help them at all once Silco comes knocking?” You asked, biting your lip as you felt like what was the only answer was slowly enclosing around you.

Immediately though, Sevika shook her head. Your mouth opened slightly in confusion as she stood up from your couch. “No. I’m gonna handle this,” the determination in her step would have been beyond adorable if it weren’t for your utter bemusement. “I… owe you,” she said slowly. You wanted to laugh at how her fierce bravado seemed to come to a skidding stop the moment she had to make an admission on her pride.

“Oh yeah?” You teased.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her cloak back on over her shoulders, concealing that absolute unit of a figure from your prying eyes. You smiled at how her broad shoulders were still very apparent, and the beginnings of her v-line peeked out with that damn cropped vest- get it together, Angel. “He’s gonna know I was here anyway, might as well make something out of it,” she explained (right, you bought that…), pausing again to scrutinize you, “You’re all good?”

Trigonometric equations started floating around in your head as you tried to decipher what she could possibly mean with that question, until her arched brow turned judgemental at how long you were taking to answer.

Oh. She was just asking about your… general wellbeing. Aw!

“O-oh, yeah, I’m all good,” you said. Truthfully too, you were more used to fighting the Bilgewater types than her, and had come out of the confrontation mostly unscathed. Your jaw stuttered as if to say more when she hummed and took a swift step forward, tilting your head up with her index and thumb.

“You’re not lying?” She asked lowly, turning your head gently from side to side.

“E-even if I was, it’s none of your business,” you snapped defensively. Dumbass. Did you have any idea how red your face was?

With an amused exhale from her nose, Sevika gently let go of your chin, fleetingly brushing her crooked index over your cheek. “Whatever you say, princess,” she said. She didn’t even give you a chance to shoot back something clever (as if you had something prepared) before she was sweeping towards the door, fixing her cigarillo in the corner of her mouth. “Your bar’s a mess,” she quipped over her shoulder, just to be a dick.

“Fuck you!” You called after her, the smile on your face crystal-clear in your tone. The last thing you saw was her pretty side-profile as she half-glanced at you with smug amusement lining her face, before she closed the door behind her.

You slumped back on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. “That goddamn woman…” you muttered, “Fuck.”

#sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #ubebones writing #arcane

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pirateunderapineapple · 3 days ago

Text

Agathario Ao3 FanFic Recommendation Post

IT IS HERE, IT IS QUEER!

Okay so, I'm trying to gather all of the fics that i have either bookmarked ( so multichapters that i'm following ), and also i'll be going through my ao3 history (oh it's a dark place) to check for either completed works or oneshots etc. They will not be in order of how much I recommend them obv, just in random (except for a couple that you must read or i'll stab you). I haven't found the authors on tumblr but if anyone knows them feel free to tag them, I want all them to know how much i love them hehe This is how it's gonna go: I'll leave you the name of the fic and the author, their summary of the fic and maybe a personal comment, sounds good? Disclaimer: these are fics that i have read and enjoyed so i would like to recommend to other fans as well. If anyone has any other recommendations feel free to add them to the list, i think everyone will appreciate it, myself included! OKAY HERE WE GO

-MULTICHAPTER-

Unraveled by EchoesInTheMargins Summary: The thought of being with a woman had once seemed impossible to Agatha Harkness—a door locked tightly and never to be opened. After all, she was 48 years old, for Christ’s sake.

Then, without so much as a warning, Rio Vidal, a first-year associate, strode into her perfectly controlled life and blew Agatha’s closet door off its damn hinges.

PC: I mean, I trust that everyone knows this one by now and I don't even need to recommend it but just in case! THIS IS A MASTERPIECE! The epilogue was just posted and honestly I can't even describe how I feel about this fic. I would wake up for uni at 7 in the morning and the first thing I did was check if there was an update. How to not keep a secret by disaster_top Summary: Agatha liked to keep her work and personal life separate, which was why even a decade into working as a detective her coworkers had yet to know who she was married to. And unfortunately, her wife had no interest in keeping things that way.

PC: every chapter in this one is kinda like an oneshot, but same universe etc. I really, really love their freaky dynamic ( they're the definition of they much eachothers freak) in this one and I strongly reccommend it!

It’s Bloody and Raw (But I Swear it is Sweet) by Adimnos

Summary: “I don’t believe you. You prefer me—“

“Compliant?” Rio stood slowly, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s face. The action put her inches away, her body heat radiating out, searing Agatha’s skin. “Obedient?”

Agatha’s hips shifted against her will, her lips parting slightly. She closed her eyes against the heady mortification that razed through her chest. She felt Rio move closer and she parted her legs without thought.

Rio stepped between them but didn’t touch, hands settling on the desk inches from Agatha’s hips and hands.

“You always were such a brat.” Rio’s breath was hot against Agatha’s ear, her voice throaty and raw and filthy. “You never knew how to do what you were told.”

Or: After five years away, a still-grieving Agatha is dragged back into the FBI and the arms of her ex-wife. PC: this is art, it's just sto intense, so well written. pure, pure art. i'm thrilled whenever there's a new chapter

Sugar and Honey by visadero Summary: “No way,” Rio said, crossing her arms defensively. “Good for you, get that bag, but I’ll figure something else out.”

Jen’s laughter bubbled up, bright and teasing. “Sweetheart, you’re so sheltered. These women aren’t crusty old grandmas in rocking chairs. They’re powerful, rich, and they smell like Chanel, not mothballs. Some of them are absolutely stunning.” She tilted her head, studying Rio as if sizing her up for auction. “You’d clean up if you stopped being so stubborn. They’d eat you alive—and pay you for the privilege.”

OR: Struggling bartender Rio stumbles into a sugar baby situation with CEO Agatha Harkness. She can't figure out what the woman wants from her, or why she's letting herself go along with it. PC: I really loved this one and I have to add that this fic is actually part of a series, the second work being Honey and Wine , which is basically Agatha's POV i think (sugar and honey is Rio's POV). I haven't got around to reading the second work cause i wanted some time to have passed so as to not remember every detail of the fic. I think i'll be reading it in the next few days tho so can't wait!!

death's doorstep by villhag Summary: One day, Wanda’s spell fades, and Agatha Harkness is awake again.

Pissed off and powerless, she casts a spell to take her somewhere, anywhere but Westview—and it takes her to the last place she wants to be.

Death’s doorstep. -- Agatha and her ex-girlfriend, Death, have a very tumultuous sleepover in Hell. PC: the ending we deserved, thank you author

A Kingdom by the Night by visadero Summary: “You’re early,” Agatha managed, feigning a flicker of annoyance, though her pulse quickened. "I missed you.” The words were simple, almost soft. Her dark gaze held Agatha’s, steady and unyielding. "Agatha huffed, “Is that so?” She turned away, trying to mask the slight flush rising to her cheeks. "I’d think the Queen of Shadows wouldn’t be so sentimental.” The woman’s lips curved ever so slightly as she closed the distance between them. “Think what you want. But here you are." / or : Hadestown came on shuffle, thought about the Hades/Persephone Rio/Agatha parallels and things spiraled wildly out of control PC: this one had me reaaaaally invested

Something Wicked by motherconfessor Summary: While an apprentice witch, Agatha grows frustrated when she's not permitted to learn magic.

Until someone makes her an offer that she can't refuse PC: love, LOVE, LOVE

You'd have to stop the world by Echolux Summary: In the events leading up to Jen and Alice’s wedding, their respective best friends Agatha and Rio have to work together despite their… creative differences.

Oh, and then there’s this: Rio doesn’t fall for straight women. Agatha's not a lesbian. And one of them is lying. PC: This one was one of my recent discoveries and I wish I hadn't gone through it so fast. I appreciated so much the way this author approached the characters and their relationship, it was so pure.

The Ethics of Attraction by Sunshinesongbird Summary: Agatha Harkness prides herself on being a no-nonsense ethics professor, keeping students in line with sharp lectures and sharper looks. But when Rio Vidal—brilliant, sarcastic, and infuriatingly captivating—decides to test those boundaries, Agatha finds herself facing dilemmas that have nothing to do with her syllabus. As playful banter gives way to undeniable attraction, the two must navigate the fine line between rules and reckless abandon. In this classroom, the lessons go far beyond ethics.

THEY ARE BOTH CONSENTING ADULTS THIS IS A DOCTORATE PROGRAM NOT UNDERGRAD THANK YOU!

PC: hehe loving these dynamics

you'll just have to taste me (when she's kissin' you) by agatharioluvr Summary: "You alright, buddy?" She asked, and Nicholas stared up at her, star-struck. "Sorry about that." "It's alright, I caught it before it could hit me!"

Agatha stared at her in disbelief - seeing Rio right in front of her, a little sweaty and breathless; it was unbelievably attractive. Rio looked over at her, smiling that fucking smile of hers, before turning back to Nicholas.

"Well done, little man." She laughed and ruffled his hair a little as he smiled up at her. "I like the jersey - you keep the ball, we've got plenty more."

With that, Rio nodded a farewell to Nicholas and ran back onto the court, signalling for the assistant coach to grab a new ball to use. Nicholas held his new gift to his chest tightly, squealing with delight at the fact that he'd just talked to his favourite player of all time.

OR, Agatha's son idolises a certain star basketball player, Rio Vidal - and maybe she does too...

PC: I actually recently discovered this and read it all in one sitting. Honestly, I think i'm digging the athlete!rio fics a little too much!!

The Green Witch by MickeyJrWrites Summary: Agatha takes her kid to a market where he instantly becomes attached to the sweetest farmer, Rio Vidal. It's a romcom involving carrots and celery. PC: Just cuteness overload and rio calling nicky papito like IM DYING

honey come put your lips on mine (and shut me up) by tinyteamug Summary: “Do not,” Agatha said to herself from her spot in the media booth, “you absolutely do not need to defend your honor against-”

Rio dropped her gloves.

“God fucking damn it.”

The Sharks’ forward had barely gotten her own gloves off before Rio’s fist connected with her jaw. The crowd erupted.

“I am going to kill her,” Agatha announced to no one in particular, already mentally drafting press releases. “Should’ve kept managing curling teams. Nobody ever gets punched in curling.”

OR: Gently feral hockey star Rio and long-suffering publicist Agatha who definitely doesn’t get paid enough for this shit PC: Like i said, athlete!rio is my thing...

break me, shake me, devastate me by saturnreturn Summary: Rio, owner of Westview’s local floral shop “Wisterical,” finds herself with an early Christmas present when her hag of a landlord, Evanora Harkness, keels over. With the biggest pain in her side gone, she’s expecting a relatively stress-free life from here on out.

That is, until the daughter. PC: This doesn't have many chapters yet but i think it's really got great potential!!

hand in unlovable hand by villhag Summary: “You know, it’s kind of illegal to drink here. School property and all.”

It might as well have been the voice of God. The quip came from above; Agatha seeing her shoes before she saw the rest of her. White Nikes, splotched with dirt and grass. Ribbed socks pulled all the way up over gray sweatpants. A dark green sweatshirt. Salem Elementary Soccer embroidered on the front. All culminating with a tan neck, jet-black hair, and a very annoying—should she say condescending—smirk.

Someone had been stupid enough to encroach on Agatha Harkness’s domain. -- Agatha is a widely-despised soccer mom. Rio Vidal is Salem Elementary’s new coach.

Chaos ensues.

PC: same as the previous one honestly

Time Warp by 324b2fun Summary: When Agatha signs on to do a long-awaited sequel to one of her beloved movies, she thinks it'll be an easy check and a chance to reminisce on her youth. Little does she realize her past has come back to bite her in the ass, primarily in the form of one Rio Vidal. PC: I love this fic and especially the flashback chapters

Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light by motherconfessor Summary: “Lucky gal,” Agnes said. “The only way––” and she tried to say Ralph. That had been his name, hadn’t it? The idiot of a man whose house she’d taken over. Instead, what came out, tugged by the spell was, “Rio would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer named June 2nd.” - When Wanda's spellwork traps another person in its bindings, Agatha makes a deal that all she needs is seven days to get what she wants.

But seven days is a long time to be stuck in a PG-13 sitcom. PC: agathario in wandavision universe just hits different

-LESS CHAPTERS/ONESHOTS-

anything, and I mean ANYTHING from this author : 324b2fun THEY ARE DOING GOD'S WORK periodt also like, usually when i like a fic i go and check the author's other works so i recommend you do the same

creator, you destroy me by velvetprayer Summary: Time, suddenly, means the moments in between her. PC: there is no need for introductions here i think... this fic was what gotta us all through the finale and i don't even have words to express my gratitude to the author.

i bite my tongue, it's a bad habit by tinyteamug

Summary: In the week since the bonfire incident (which she was absolutely not thinking about), she’d run into Rio approximately seventeen times.

Not that she was counting.

There was Tuesday, when Agatha had taken Nicholas to his first surf lesson. Rio had been teaching the advanced class, wetsuit clinging to her like a second skin, and Agatha had absolutely not watched her demonstrate proper form on the beach.

(“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Wanda had said smugly.

“Shit.”

“And you’re drooling a little.”)

OR Agatha has a mid-life crisis and bails for LA. That’s what people did, right? Terrible breakup, mid-life crisis, pack up your sixteen-year-old kid and move to California. Completely reasonable sequence of events.

Then start sleeping with the hot surfing instructor, royally fuck up keeping it casual, and try your damndest not to fall in love. Less reasonable sequence of events. But whatever.

i looked to the children (i drank from the fountains) by seabiscuit Summary: “Wait, you haven’t even heard my pitch,” She can hear William’s footsteps quickening behind her, “She’s gay, too.”

Agatha turns sharply on her heel, “How could you possibly know that?”

“I asked.”

“You asked?” Agatha slaps a hand over her face, covering her eyes, “Oh my God, Teen, one of these days you’re going to get slapped in the face, and you’re going to deserve it.” * Or,Agatha’s teenage neighbor tries to play matchmaker with her and the hot funeral director who just moved in next door. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

better in the dark by seabiscuit Summary: “I don’t have sex.”

Agatha’s face screwed up somewhere between delight and incredulity, “You don’t ever?” She scoffed, “As in you’ve never at all? How long have you been here?”

“Since the inception of life itself.”

“And you’ve never fucked?” The way she said it, it did sound a little stupid, “What do you do to pass the time?”

“I scare children,” Death shifted in her chair, still rubbing at the skin of one hand with the other. No wonder Agatha had nowhere to live, she thought. She was unbearable. “Amongst other things.”

Or, Upon meeting Death, Agatha takes it upon herself to educate her on some of the finer points of being human. PC: This is pure, pure magic.

death and taxes (a series) by paddingtonfan69 Summary: They’re staring at each other over the now evenly stacked forms at the table. Agatha’s mask has fully slipped and Rio is fascinated by what’s underneath it, an unruly sort of anger, a sharp passion. Agatha looks like she wants to tear Rio from limb to limb. And Rio, god help her, would probably let her.

“Moving on to property taxes…”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Agatha lets out. “Don’t you have a life?” — Rio is the best IRS agent in her field. Agatha refuses to pay her taxes. A love story for the ages.

PC: This story is so random but man I love it

when we kiss (i have anger issues) by lgbtimelord Summary: there’s no one agatha hates more than rio vidal

but there’s no one evanora hates more than the vidal family

so, when her mother forces her to go home for halloween, bringing rio as her pretend girlfriend is the best course of action to piss her off

PC: i remember enjoying this one

with your boots beneath my bed by dumblibramoon Summary: "Here,” Rio said, standing and shrugging off her flannel overshirt. Of course she was wearing layers. Of course.

“I'm fine,” Agatha said automatically, even as a cold shiver ran through her.

Rio just raised an eyebrow and held out the shirt. “You're dripping on my hay.”

“Your hay will survive.” But Agatha took the shirt, trying not to notice how warm it was.

Nicky desperately craved this dusty hellscape of a ranch for summer camp, and because Agatha's not about to leave her son alone with a bunch of horse people, she rents a cottage nearby. And here comes Rio, wearing an incredibly unserious pair of Wrangler jeans PC: just cute little lesbians

if i could take her down and run (then i'd call her) by dumblibramoon Summary: “You're late,” Agatha manages to quip, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

“A lady is never late,” Rio retorts, kneeling beside the fallen witch. Her eyes rake over Agatha's form, taking in the severity of the wound. “Looks like you've had quite the night, sweetheart.”

Agatha tries to laugh, but it comes out as a pained cough. “What can I say? I like to live dangerously.”

“Clearly,” Rio murmurs, her cool fingers brushing against Agatha's cheek. Agatha jolts quickly before listing back and slightly leaning into Rio’s hand. Goddamn, she was woozy.

Rio can sense when Agatha is anywhere near death (the physical kind). Featuring Agatha flirting with both her mortality and Death.

the way i feel about you baby can’t explain it by seabiscuit Summary: “She won’t even admit that she’s gay for a New York City Ballet dancer. You think she would go for you, Rio Vidal of Cobb, Oklahoma?” Jenn raises an eyebrow, “IT service provider who plays Elden Ring in her spare time.”

“Maybe.” Chirps Rio. Hope does, after all, spring eternal. * Or, Rio goes from IT service monkey to fucking her very beautiful, very poised boss in a very short period of time. And then, of course, there’s the aftermath. PC: ngl i don't remember much about this one but i remember liking it lol

She Gets The Job Done by visadero Summary: Cars don’t crash through fences for free,” Rio replied smoothly, shrugging. “But,” she continued, eyes glinting, “I’ll make you an offer. You cover just the cost of parts—let’s call it a grand—and I’ll throw in the labor for free.” Agatha frowned, knowing there had to be a catch. “And what exactly do you want in return?” Rio leaned back against the workbench, arms folded and expression deceptively casual. “Dinner with me.”

OR: Agatha is making her way cross country when she wrecks her car. There's only one shop in town ran by a deeply irritating and magnetic mechanic. She offers a discount on the work in exchange for dinner. Then she really puts in the body work (heyo). PC: this was a cute little piece

so maybe when you kiss me, i can let you see me cry by rainbowinbeigeboots Summary: Agatha reluctantly has her first sleepover

PC: my babies i loved them so much in this

witchcraft filling your void (a series) by wariangle Summary: Pulling the sheet to her, Agatha gets up, draws a hand through her hair. “Get up,” she says, loudly.

The woman – Rio, if Agatha remembers correctly, Jesus fucking Christ – only mumbles something in response and turns over, away from the noise. On her back, right below her neck, the black tendrils of a tattoo spiral across her shoulder blades.

Agatha’s too fucking old for this. “Get up,” she repeats. She’s been teaching for over twenty years; she knows how to make her voice carry in a room. PC: this series has 4 works with 1-2 chapters each, i just put the summary to the first one. I enjoyed reading it and had some laughs with my baby rio

por eso by stick2theplan

Summary: In the seventies, Wanda decided Westview needed some queer representation. If Agnes hated her husband so much, maybe she’d prefer a wife.

(In which Ralph wasn’t real.)

PC: didn't know if i should add this in the multichapter or not since it is about 15000 words only but in any case, READ THIS

Underneath The Tree by Cthulhus_Curse Summary: Rio is back in her hometown after years of disappearance. Having always been seen as the black sheep for going three decades without meeting her soulmate, she finds herself awkwardly going through the motions of a rather disastrous family Christmas. But when a rather hasty brunette runs into her in town, Rio finds herself happy to spend as much time getting to know her before returning to the cruel reality of the holiday season. — Or Soulmate AU. Everyone has a journal that allows them to write back and forth with their soulmate, but need to leave it to fate to let them meet. ----------- OKAY SO, these were the ones i could find, god this list is long, maybe in the future there will be a part 2, who knows i hope i have been helpful to yall and you guys give these fics and authors the love that they deserve! seeya my babes<3

#agatha all along #agathario #ao3 #agatharioao3 #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #marvel

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reallyromealone · 3 days ago

Note

I'm sorry to ask. But I'd like to ask for more of Alastor's Jazz King Son x Rubber Ducky King Lucy from Hazbin Hotel, please. Like we need a part 2. Like maybe Alastor's Son helping protect the hotel or whatever you feel in the mood to write

Title: blues

Fandom: hazbin hotel

Characters: hazbin hotel ensemble

Fic type: fluff, angst

Pairings: Lucifer x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, angst, emotional, everyone feels some feels

Notes: it's been hard to write for a while, I'm happy I could actually finish a fic without hating it, I am actually semi proud of this one

Summary: reader goes on a date with Lucifer, they share some emotional stuff

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Charlie watched her dad and Alastors son closely, (name) towered over him with height clearly inherited from his father though having an expression that she would be horrified to see on Alastor. (Name) Held a rubber duck in his hand and the two spoke fondly and softly, the two giggling at little jokes.

At first Charlie was worried if this was a gold digger situation but it quickly became clear that the singing demon was genuinely in love with her dad and... It was nice seeing him so happy after mom.

"I-I made you another duck..." Lucifer mumbled handing the walking sex symbol a rubber duck, always expecting a lackluster reaction from people but every time (name) broke out from a smile to a grin "why thank you, sweetness~" (name) pressed a kiss to the others lips, finger hooking under his chin and Lucifer melted a bit before (name) pulled away "you have such a talent for this, truly~" (name) remarked before looking closer at it while Lucifer felt a small ego boost at the compliment "you should see my others!"

"I would love too~" (name) didn't even hesitate much to the others bewilderment, it had been just under a month and (name) was treating him better than his exes did... He only had two but still!

Though Lucifer wanted to do extravagant things for (name), showing off his power and wealth he was pleasantly surprised that (name) prefered more lowkey things "everyone tries to grab my attention with big acts... Let's do something you like my ducky" and that's how they ended up sitting on the floor while Lucifer taught (name) how to sew duck clothing and chatting away "so why did you choose me?" Lucifer asked suddenly, a bit self conscious and nervous "you made me laugh" (name) said simply and looked at the confused angel "flowers, jewelry and expensive cars... And our of all that I saw a little rubber duck that looked like me, it was so cute and I couldn't stop giggling at it" (name)s words weren't like how he usually spoke, they were gentle and honest, no flirtatious undertones.

And Lucifer didn't think he could fall harder.

(Name) Giggled at his stunned expression, the blush that creeped on the angels face when (name) leaned in to kiss him with so much love and passion, Lucifer letting the other take the lead and the two kissed softly before pulling back (name) admired his lipstick on the other "so why did you choose me?" He knew why most chose him... His body and voice was like a sirens call in hell...

"You didn't care, you stood your ground and didn't give in like most sinners do here... And I know how everyone dies here... I don't think you deserved hell... But I'm happy I got to meet you despite it all" (name) stared at him wide eyed "you always spoke so sophisticated and knew your shit, you showed everyone that you weren't just a face but someone who deserved care and actually made attempts to help people"

"You deserve good things... And if I can help with that, I will"

"You think that..." (Name)S voice was watery and his hands fisted into his suit pants, not sure how to deal with this genuine emotion-- his own father barely gave this much real emotion... Often choosing to slap a smile than show his cards this kid. "You're beautiful but you're also the most amazing person I ever met"

Lucifer looked startled at the tears rolling down (name)s face "a-are you ok? Sorry if tha--" (name) hugged him tight, no sensual kisses but a hug that spoke more words than could be spoken.

"Thank you..." (Name) Whispered into his ear and Lucifer hugged his boyfriend back, the two having a much needed hug.

(Name) Ended up falling asleep in Lucifer's lap not much longer, the crying taking a toll on him. Lucifer sat and thought before realizing that before this he never once saw (name) without a smile on his face... Not as intense as the sinners dad but... It was always present.

This was the first time (name) showed him raw emotion.

(Name) Finished another set at the hotel, more and more people gathered to see and gave a chance to promote the hotels purpose with decent success.

Alastor watched from a distance, he would never admit the regret he felt... Leaving his son so young... He died with a photo of his little one in his chest pocket, it was truly the only thing he cared about, he was happy his son turned out well.

Though he didn't approve of his choices in partners.. Lucifer?

Really?

Turning, Alastor decided to retire for the night, going up to his room and glancing at the photo of an itty bitty (name), faded from time and a stuffed doll Alastor made; an exact copy of the one his son used to bring everywhere...

Letting out a sigh, he did what he did best.

Mask, deny and dominate.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x male reader #male reader #x male reader #lucifer x reader #Lucifer x male reader

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hippolotamus · 2 days ago

Text

Hippo New Year

tldr: what a fucking year. best wishes for 2025 and all that. the end ✨

expanded version:

actually, I'm delighted to report that, personally, this year was pretty uneventful. an absolute blessing compared to last year. although i lowkey adored the mini explosion of pygmy hippos 🦛 fandom on the other hand... hoo boy what a shit show. but that's not telling you anything you don't know. it definitely still had its highlights tho! take a speedrun with me, besties (under the cut because apparently i ramble a lot)

@this-is-bwr had a hell of a year, most notably by starting an original work that is nearly finished its first round. i'm so fucking excited and seriously don't think i could be more proud of you (although you will inevitably prove me wrong by doing some other incredible Thing) 🖤

@stereopticons finished and published an incredible, highly anticipated Schitt's Creek fic that's been in their WIPs for 2 years. Love a good exes-to-lovers with a healthy dose of miscommunication and meddling? go read gather up the avenues. you won't regret it, promise. i love you so much and look forward to our next year together. 🦦❤️🦛

learned i'm tumblr married to a witch (affectionate). when @bidisasterevankinard first brought up the idea of Buck and Tommy getting together, i was... (don't hate me) skeptical. definitely more in the 'ok, sure, we'll see' realm. oops. love you the mostest, babe (please don't divorce me) also, she graduates uni this year and has worked so fucking hard and i could not be more proud 😘💙

additionally, @diazsdimples became my tumblr husband! it has been such a fun year with you, James. From collabs we may or may not ever finish to Alfie and BEST to Ballet AU and Teddie... 2025 is shaping up to be a fucking delight. 💞

@dr-shortsighted-owl... YOU OWLFICIALLY BECAME DR OWL THIS YEAR. WHAT?! I know it's been a Journey™️ for you and it was amazing to see this happen for you. Also, I don't go here but if you're into fic for Jojo's bizarre adventure... she's your owl. 🦉❤️🦛

@eddiebabygirldiaz... jesus, what a year in fic for you (one day i'll catch up, i swear). but i really want to highlight that Ryan is making an original work(!!!) that i am legit frothing over. when it comes out, don't ask me what my plans are... i'll be reading that. so excited, dearest bee 💞🐝

speaking of original works, i'd be remiss if i skipped over @rewritetheending, who released margins earlier this year. I was instantly endeared by Alex & Elijah's story. i'm not exaggerating when i say that i think about 'Tell me about more.' every single day. i don't actually think i could coherently articulate the impact that had on me. it cut deep. well 👏 done 👏 and I can't wait for Adrian & Beau's story

psssst! did you know @spotsandsocks surpassed 1m words on ao3???? And she makes the cutest lil dragons 🥰 Spotty, I am eternally captivated by you 💞🐉

@doctorkinney, yes, Nolan, you are in fact my beloved. always 🪿💞🦛

@slightlyobsessedwitheverything i feel like you're (the most) singlehandedly responsible for helping turn me to the deep dark waters of multi-shipping lol I was already getting there but talking BEST, BuddieTommy, BuddieShannon, BuckShannon, etc has been incredibly cathartic and some of the most fun i've had this year. 💞🐝

also in the multi-shipping lane, huge hat tip to @bucksbignaturals for sucking me into the SalTommy void and deeper into Jeddie. what a ride 😅

@filet-o-feelings first of all, you joined the Dark Side and gave us such a sweet BuckTommy fic. Second, giving you so much love and hugs for all that's happened this past year, and all of the crossing all the things Amazing things yet to come

@daffi-990 gave us some truly remarkable Buddie reads this year, most notably stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong aka rival firefighters. so proud of you for finishing this one. it was an instant bookmark for me and everyone should definitely read it ❤️🚒

@steadfastsaturnsrings you are an eternal ray of positivity and i absolutely adore you for that. i love exchanging EddieShannon HC with you and hearing about your fic ideas. 💞 🪐

gonna give a big shout to @theotherbuckley for your amazing BuckTommy art, gifs, vids (that had me wheezing), fics and tweets (Chris calling oblivious Eddie out will always be gold to me) 💜

i feel like i could go on and on and on about every single one of you. in case you haven't guessed by now, cheerleading/providing yells is kinda my jam. while the beginning of the year (and beginning of April for some reason... idk... strange 😅 ) saw some moots disappear, this year also brought brand new friends that i'm having a blast getting to know. Looking at you @swiftiefirefighters, @mmso-notlikethat, @half-oz-eddie, @peppermintquartz, @inell, @herrmannhalsteadproduction, @lavenderleahy…

and ofc my eternal love and devotion to @elvensorceress 🐥💞🦛 @giddyupbuck @midsummersmorn @lemonzestywrites @bi-buckrights @beyourownanchor6 @bucksbiawakening @monsterrae1 @your-catfish-friend (positively feral over what's coming in the pipeline from you) @actuallyitsellie @statueinthestone @thelikesofus @wildlife4life LOML @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @djdangerlove @wikiangela @thekristen999 @diazheartsbuckley @dangerpronebuddie @tizniz @kitteneddiediaz @a-noble-dragon @freewayshark @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @imtheiliad @singlethread and many more i couldn't fit here 🫶 😘

#admittedly #this got out of hand #long post #hippo rambles #happy new year and all that #i'm exhausted fr #nobody look at me collecting spice like pokemon #usernolan #userrc

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wonyowonyo · 2 days ago

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Straightforward - 𝐈𝐕

It was yet another busy day for every student as morning came which meant another day of classes. Chatters around the classroom filled the atmosphere, teens talking to their peers with diverse topics. Minju shortly arrived, opening the door and was greeted by the endless muttering and whispers of her classmates.

'ˢᵉʳᶦᵒᵘˢˡʸˀ ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᴵⁿˢᵃⁿᵉ'

'ˢʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵏᶦⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵍᶦʳˡ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ'

'ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵃʷᶠᵘˡ ᶦᶠ ᶦᵗ'ˢ ᵗʳᵘᵉ'

Minju, who just arrived, was confused and unaware about what was going on. Her classmate shortly noticed her arrival as they shifted their focus into the girl, which caused more whispers to ensue.

'ᴼʰ, ᴹᶦⁿʲᵘ'ˢ ʰᵉʳᵉ'

'ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢᵏ ʰᵉʳˀ '

Hearing the whispers from her classmates and the sudden shift of focus to her, Minju's confused expression turned into one of worry. What could be happening right now? Minju tried to recall if she ever did something bad recently, to which she failed as she can't recall doing anything negative.

'...What?'

"Minju!"

Minju heard the familiar husky voice calling out to her, causing her to turn her head to the direction of the voice. Her guess was right, It was none other than her best friend Yuri and next to her was their other friend named Yena. They seemed to be quite worried. Yuri then motioned Minju to come closer. Without hesitation, Minju walked her way to them . "What's wrong?"

Minju asked, noticing the facial expression of the two. It seems like they have a clue about what's going on.

"You haven't heard?"

Yuri whispered to Minju, causing Minju to be confused again. What is Yuri implying? "It seems like... there's a bad rumour about you." ...What?Minju was surprised by what Yuri said. Rumour? A bad one at that? What did she do? "It's like, Minju is a player and flirting with a lot of boys. Things like that. They even said you had another boyfriend while dating Hyunjin. Those sons of a bitches." Yuri said, anger evident in her voice. Who could've done something like this to Minju? On the other hand, Minju simply looked down while gripping the straps of her bag. Minju furrowed as she felt mixed emotions about her predicament. 'What the heck is that?... I'm sure Hyunjin spread the rumour about me.'

There couldn't have been any more logical perpetrator about the rumour circling around about her. Minju's guess was Hyunjin, her ex who played with her and cheated. He was probably butt-hurt about Minju dumping him. Feeling really annoyed about that, Minju raised her head. At that moment she catched Y/n looking at her. Oh.

Just like that, Minju's annoyance dissipated and her heart felt fluttery yet again as she remembered the events yesterday. Y/n, who was caught off guard by Minju catching him on the spot, jolted and quickly turned his head away from Minju and into his desk. ...Huh?

Minju felt the fluttering stop as she felt a hint of bitter feeling after Y/n broke eye contact with her. He didn't even greet him or acknowledge him. Brushing off the action, Minju excitedly walked over to Y/n's seat. "Um... Y/n-ssi, Good morning." "Good morning."

Y/n blankly replied, no excitement or happiness in his voice. It was a bland and formal greeting. He didn't even look into her eyes and remained looking at his seat with an empty stare. At this point, Minju was getting nervous about Y/n's sudden change in behaviour. "U-uh... Thank you for helping me with my studies yeste-" *RATTLE*"Excuse me. The teacher wants to see me, so I have to go."

The rattling sound came from Y/n's chair which was caused by him suddenly standing up, cutting Minju who was in the middle of thanking him. He'd firmly put his hand on the desk, still not looking Minju's way. Minju can only watch as Y/n turn and walk away from her, not even daring to look at her way. Y/n proceeds to leave the classroom, leaving a stunned Minju. Minju didn't know what to do, not only did a rumour about her suddenly appear and now suddenly Y/n is avoiding her. 'Has he heard the rumour? Y/n... does he hate me now?'

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Minju would open her locker, take the necessary things and store some stuff of hers. She really wasn't in the mood for anything today. Minju sighed as she closed the locker before locking it. "Oh. Minju, Long time no see." And as if Minju was thinking her day couldn't have gone worse, Fate decided to play with her. Just hearing his voice infuriated her so much. Minju turned and what greeted her was her ex-boyfriend and the boy who probably was the cause of the mess happening today. "What do you want Hyunjin?"

Minju said with a blank tone. She wasn't keen on talking to him right now.

"Oh nothing, I just heard a rumour about you going around."

Hyunjin was slightly smiling with a hint of smugness hidden. This really annoys Minju more.

"Anyway, you seem to be close to that nerd these days. Are you?"

Minju already knew who Hyunjin was talking to. She kept her composure and remained quiet, not giving Hyunjin any reaction as she kept her blank gaze on the clown that was talking in front of her.

"Are you dating him or something?"

Hyunjin said getting closer to Minju.

"I didn't know that was your type. You sure have bad taste, huh?"

Hyunjin was now not even trying to hide his mocking tone. Minju couldn't keep her composure anymore as she gripped the straps of her bag tightly, seething with anger. "You don't know anything..." "Don't say anything bad about Y/n!"

Minju angrily said to Hyunjin. Gone was her calm demeanour and instead was now full-on angry. "He's the complete opposite of you. He's honest, faithful, and cool. Unlike you, you're a half-assed monkey in heat who can't control himself!" Hyunjin was taken aback by Minju's sudden outburst but immediately snapped back as he too was now angry. "Huh?! Why are you getting upset?!"

It seems Minju's roasts clearly angered Hyunjin as in that moment, Hyunjin suddenly raised his hand clearly with the intention to hit Minju. Knowing what was about to happen, Minju closed her eyes and waited for the impact. The impact however never happened, causing Minju to open her eyes.

What greeted Minju was the sight of Y/n grasping Hyunjin's wrists so tightly which made Hyunjin grunt in pain.

"Yah. Are you trying to hit a woman?"

Y/n glared at Hyunjin which somewhat intimidated Hyunjin. He showed evident anger as he tugged Hyunjin's wrist tighter, causing Hyunjin to grunt even more.

"You should be ashamed as a man."

Noticing that they've attracted quite a bunch from the commotion, Hyunjin immediately pulled his wrist away from Y/n's grasp.

"Get off!"

Hyunjin immediately walked away in shame with Y/n and Minju just watching him.

"Are you alright?"

Y/n then turned his head to Minju and checked on her. Minju only nodded as she avoided eye contact with Y/n who seemed to return to normal. "I.. thought you hated me now. Aren't you staying away from me because of the rumours?"

Minju was obviously sad after saying that, after all, Y/n has been avoiding her all day. Y/n however was surprised by what Minju said.

"The rumours? No I was just...

... I was just playing hard to get."

Y/n meekly said while smiling as if he was proud to accomplish something. Minju however was shocked beyond belief. Here she was sulking and upset about Y/n avoiding her thinking it was because of the rumours. Instead it was because Y/n was trying to be hard to get... What the hell?!

"I read a magazine the other day... It said only showing how much you like the person isn't enough... And you have to play hard to get it once in a while... So I followed that advice."

Y/n explained innocently what his reason was and why he decided to avoid Minju. Turns out it wasn't even connected to the rumour but instead because he was trying to follow a love advice. Y/n truly know how to shock and surprise Minju in many ways possible. 'What?!'

Minju can only remain speechless while Y/n was explaining. She was really embarrassed because of the misunderstanding, though it was mostly Y/n's fault for abruptly ignoring her.

"Keeping away from you was a little hard for me too..."

Y/n confessed while slightly blushing. Minju was still silent as she was conflicted, it was as if she's trying to say something. In the end, she decided to push through.

"You don't have to do things like that...

... I'm already into you."

Now it was the time for Minju to catch Y/n in surprise. An awkward pause happened as Y/n remained still in his position, utterly shocked by Minju's sudden confession. Y/n however immediately realised what Minju said.

"What? That... Well... W..Wh...What do you mean...?"

Y/n asked, He wasn't sure if he just heard what Minju said just now. Is he finally going deaf?

"... I mean!"

Minju suddenly jumped straight into Y/n's body, her arms engulfing Y/n's torso, while her head was buried into him. Minju can smell Y/n's scent, it was sweet, just like Y/n. She then looked up and stared into Y/n's eyes.

"I already like you. That's what I'm saying!!"

Minju confessed yet another time. This time however, she and Y/n were looking at each other. Both teen's faces were deeply shaded in red. It seems like a new love has bloomed and fluttered.

Y/n would push Minju off, taking Minju by surprise. His hands were still on Minji's shoulders, while he looked at the floor, trying to hide his reddened face.

"I..."

Y/n mustered the courage to then look into Minju's face again.

"I promise I'll make you happy!!"

Y/n suddenly blurted out, his face was now redder than ever, his heart was thumping crazily, and he was mentally panicking as every second passed. Minju laughed at Y/n's actions.

"That sounds like a proposal."

Minju teased Y/n which earned a look of shock from the boy's face.

"No! I mean! I'll propose properly in the future!"

Y/n was now fumbling with his words, clearly panicking, and Minju's teasing wasn't helping any better.

"That's not gonna happen for quite some time."

'So he's really gonna do it...'

Minju was also blushing from what's happening while also laughing at Y/n's antics. He'd never seen this side of Y/n that much, and she hoped she'd see this more often in the future.

And so, they both walked out of the school grounds. With hands holding each other, hearts beating together, and their love getting larger every second. Their relationship may not be as romantic as other people, but it didn't matter. In the end, what really matters is their faith and love for each other.

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

< series front page next >

#kim minju #kim minju x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop imagines #fluff #kpop girls #izone minju #izone minju x reader #izone x reader

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dearfuturehusbandblog · 3 days ago

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I'm Not Sure How To Feel...

Dear Future Husband,

Wow. I almost wrote Deaf Uture Husband, which is either ironic or a Freudian slip of the fingers, because that's literally what this post is about.

I grew up with a disabled, lazy, mostly-absentee, so-many-other-problems, father.

And someone just sent me the resume for someone similar.

Now, the truth is, I don't know him all that well.

But I do know that he's deaf (aka disabled). And that (at least in the beginning, especially around the divorce) he has been kind of an absentee father. And that he was kind of pushed into working despite not really wanting to, so he basically works a minimum wage job.

I know all this because he's the ex of a family friend.

Yeah.

Also he's a lot younger than me, which on it's face isn't necessarily a problem, but it's the lack of maturity more than the "youngness" that bothers me.

The friend who sent the resume is one of the absolute sweetest people you could ever meet in your life.

We were in middle and high school together, though we didn't share too many classes and weren't in the same social circles, so at the time we were more acquaintances than friends.

But recently I signed up to bring them a meal after she gave birth and I've since been helping her out with the kids a few times a week and we've definitely moved from acquaintances to friends.

Since it's been less than 2 months though, we are still getting to know each other and I'm not sure if the resume was her idea or her husband's. I don't even really know if they actually know him or just read the resume and thought it sounded good for me. But she had asked me if the last name had ever come across my desk before and I just thought to myself "it caaaan't be who I think it is...." so I told her to feel free to send it over, because the best case scenario is that it's someone I've never heard of and the worst case scenario is I just say no thank you.

I considered how to word it when I saw that it was exactly who I thought it was, and ended up just telling her how funny it was that I actually did know who he was and that it was just not shayich for a bunch of reasons, but I'd keep him in mind for others.

Diplomatic, closed the subject, and now we can move on.

Or can we....?

Because this is the second guy suggested to me this year who is a little off.

And I know that kind of comes with the territory of being an "older single".

And I know that people think that I'm the sweetest person and therefore would entertain the idea of these guys because I come across as a nonjudgemental person, the exact type these guys would need to marry.

But at the same time, I'd like to think people deem me worthy of at least a 6, you know?

Neither of these guys are ugly, per se, but they're just ambitionless.

And I know, look who's talking, right? But the truth is, I do have ambitions, I just have no way to make them happen because I don't have the mazal for it.

These guys could have all the mazal in the world, but they just kind of couldn't care less, I guess.

They kind of lack personality.

And I know I have friends who are all personality who married very mild guys, but I feel like I need someone who I can have a conversation with. Someone I can be a bit combative with (in a healthy way). Someone with thoughts and ideas and who wants to do things.

Does this mean I just don't come off as my authentic self to the people who are trying to set me up? (Not that I really think I'm ready for marriage yet, but since Hashem works in mysterious ways, I don't just shoot down whatever ideas are floated my way)

The first guy who was suggested to me this year I did actually go out with. Since I was away for the summer and he was staying like an hour and a half away from where I was staying, he took a bus to come meet me, which I totally didn't expect to happen.

He was nice enough, but awkward and probably on the spectrum. I did most of the talking and it was like pulling teeth to get him to open up about most things, so I kept it light and did mostly ice breaker type conversation while we walked around a park a little bit. Then I drove him to catch his bus and that was kind of it.

The girl who wanted us to go out was an old family friend I hadn't seen in at least 15 years, but I ran into her at a simcha and she had her mom (who used to be a shadchan) do the shadchan thing.

Just based on his resume, I had a feeling it wasn't going to work out because hashkafically we were in two different places, but I figured if he was up to meet, then the least I could do was give him an hour or two of my time, because maybe I'd know someone who is right for him.

The friend later told me that he never dates because he's too shy and she'd been trying to get him to go out for several years and I was the first person he'd said yes to. She tried to get me to go on another date with him, but like I said, hashkafically we were just on two different pages though if he's interested in talking tachlis, I'll go out again, but he kind of agreed because he didn't want a second date either. (She kind of figured if she could get me to say yes then maybe he would too. I think she's just trying to get him out of his little rut, though I don't know if he wants to leave it, to be honest...)

For example, I'm looking for someone for whom attending minyan is important, whereas he prefers to daven by himself, if at all.

And I'm looking for someone who has a regular learning seder multiple days a week, at the very least over the phone if they're unable to connect in person, and he learns about once a week, if at all.

I want a Shabbos table that revolves around Torah, sefarim, and zemiros. And he... I guess doesn't?

In general I'm just looking for someone more serious about and more settled in their yiddishkeit and I didn't get that impression of him in the resume or in person (and then the shadchan confirmed those impressions too).

And as for this second guy I was just suggested... I get the feeling it's the same type of situation. I've met him several times and he just reminds me so much of my father in terms of his apathy towards yiddishkeit and being a father.

That's not at all what I'm looking for.

And I know this friend who sent the resume for this second guy sees the world through such positive, beautiful glasses, but I can't help thinking that it's kind of offensive people think that little of me.

Again, maybe that's not at all what she was thinking. Maybe she doesn't actually know him and was just passing along the resume for someone who on paper looks great. I mean, the resume looks decent. The blurb is short and hits all the important positive points, so from the outside it is similar to what I'm looking for.

But knowing the person and the way things went down with the divorce and everything definitely changes the whole perspective. His ex was literally in tears on multiple occasions that he seemed so disinterested in his role as a father and just showing up and being present when the kids wanted him.

So I guess at this point I'm just hoping she doesn't actually know him and was just passing along the resume because it looks decent.

Either way, dear future husband, he is not you. Neither of them are. I can say that with confidence.

-LivelyHeart

#jumblr #frumblr #orthodox #jewish #frum #dating #jewish dating #shidduch dating #shidduch #shadchan #shadchanim #shidduchim #i am the shidduch crisis

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kkuzushi · 1 day ago

Text

જ Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby. . .ᐟ

˚𖦹 ‘ Chapter 17 : 3.. 2.. 1.. Where’s my kiss? ִ ࣪𖤐

— PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Once again, you were dragged by your very kind friends at a party. They made a good point of having fun before the break ends, but your social battery was at stake here. Still, there’s no escaping parties once Hu Tao gets a hold of the deets.

You and your friends gathered in the dormitory roof decks, along with other students that wanted to participate in the countdown. Despite the venue being a vast space for numerous students, the Set B dorm’s roof deck was also filled with the rest of the crowd.

As much as you want to hope that Scaramouche is on the other side, you know he isn’t. Especially not if your friend is Hu Tao.. who is friends with Ajax.. who is friends with your ex. It’s such a small world, isn’t it?

On cue, Scaramouche appears as you navigate through the crowd. He grinned, as if he hit the jackpot of seeing you in yet another chaotic event. The indigo haired male approached you and before you know it, your friends are nowhere to be found.

It’s like they’re all in on this and planned to get you some alone time with Scaramouche.

“He–”

“Are you happy?” You interrupted him, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled, “With what?” Scaramouche imitated your pose, except he was almost doing it to spite you.

You rolled your eyes, not buying his act of playing dumb. “With me being stuck here with you,” you replied dryly, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, did you pay Hu Tao to pull this stunt?”

Scaramouche’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in slightly. “Why would I waste money on something I get for free? You’re here, aren’t you?”

You groaned, looking around for any sign of your friends. “I don’t know how I keep ending up in these situations with you.”

“Fate,” he replied instantly, not missing a beat.

You raised an eyebrow. “Fate? Please, it’s Hu Tao’s bad habit of meddling.”

“Or,” Scaramouche said, stepping closer, “it’s the universe making sure we don’t miss our chance to reconcile before the new year.”

You stared at him, unimpressed. How did things change so drastically between the two of you? Just the last time, you were running away from him every time you got a glimpse of his unforgettable indigo hair or punchable face.

Ten minutes have passed and Scaramouche continued tailing you. From the pantry of food when you got hungry, to the table you tried to hide at when you needed a break from the crowd. It was like you couldn’t shake him off, no matter how many sharp turns or subtle glares you threw his way.

“Are you done?” you asked, spinning around to face him as you placed your drink down on the table with a bit more force than intended. “What do you want, Scaramouche?”

He blinked at you, feigning innocence. “I’m just here for the atmosphere. Why? Am I ruining your party experience?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms. “You’re like an overzealous mosquito. Aren’t you tired of bothering me?”

“Not really,” he replied smoothly, leaning against the table like he owned it. “It’s a party, YN. Socializing is encouraged. And you? You’re the most interesting person here.”

He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Or would you rather I go socialize with someone else?”

For a moment, you hesitated. The thought of him turning his attention to someone else—a random partygoer, no less—left a sour taste in your mouth. But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Be my guest,” you said instead, motioning toward the crowd.

Scaramouche, of course, didn’t move an inch. “Hmm, tempting. But nah, I like it here.”

You rolled your eyes, acting like you can’t feel your cheeks heat up by the gesture. Get yourself together, YN! He’s still your ex, one that can’t leave you alone.

Before you could get lost in thought, a microphone feedback on the speakers which takes everyone’s attention. “One minute left before 2024 ends! Official countdown will start at the last 10 second mark.”

Everyone cheered, but one particular voice chimes in, “DON’T FORGET YOUR NEW YEARS KISS!”

Your eye twitched at that overly energetic voice, even from a mile away, you can tell it’s Hu Tao—and that ‘new years kiss’? That was most likely directed to you and a certain guy beside you who is already smirking.

That’s not gonna happen though. Even with the efforts that Scaramouche is exerting just to swoop you back in his arms, a kiss would just be over the line.

“10.. 9..”

That was quick, you thought. Scaramouche approached you.

“8.. 7..”

You looked at him, keeping distance just in case he actually plans on kissing you.

“6.. 5..”

He laughs at your obvious attempt but he just continues walking closer.

“4.. 3..”

Your back hits the railing of the deck and you're cornered, but Scaramouche stops at a respectful distance, his hands tucked in his pocket.

“2.. 1.. Happy New Year!”

At the cue of the yells and fireworks, Scaramouche reached a hand to bring it up to his lips for a chaste peck.

“Happy new year, YN.”

— ꒰꒰﹒Happy New Year, everyone! Here is the first New Year special chapter, please enjoy as this actually got me giggling on my chair.

— ꒰꒰﹒TAGLIST : @raineyun @hayamie @sketcheeee @wraithisd3adinside @heusalettle @liuaneee @yevurin @mywillt0live @kaikaidenkai @alatusorrow @shrimplyasleep @minstarrs @reivelmin @scaraenthusiast1 @girlbesofr2814 @yawn-zi

— ꒰꒰﹒OPEN. [ 16/50 ]

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hurtspideyparker · 1 day ago

Note

Heeey! Idk if someone has already asked you this but, if you could recommend three Stony fanfics which ones would you recommend? And What made you ship them? :] Also love ur writing!

IT'S MY NEW STONY MUTUAL YIPPIE ✨ HI FRIEND. Sorry for the late reply, been busy in my own way. I'm so happy to hear from you! 😸

that is a tough question...

Principles of the Thing by Annie D (scaramouche)

In Tony’s opinion, the only thing worse than having a crush on Steve is: having a crush on Steve while Steve won’t shut up about how great Tony is.

Mainly recommending this because the author's Stony fics are all amazing. They're a fantastic writer and I'm sure there's something there for everyone; I'm still making my way through them and I'm never disappointed! This fic in particular is very sweet and adorable, plus it has my favourite Stony fanfiction device—it's told from a self-deprecating Tony's perspective <3 that's how you know it's gonna be a good one 😌 I need my man to hate himself a little thankyouverymuch. I also think it's cute to have Steve be virtuous in a very sweet gentleman way, instead of the hurting-Tony way (although I like that way a lot too)

Loverboys by theappleppielifestyle

“Here’s the deal,” Tony says. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to pretend to date me.”

Steve stares at him, but only for a second.

“No thanks,” he says, and looks back down at his algebra worksheet.

(Or, a High School Fake Dating AU.)

I have a soft spot for high school and college AUs okay, sue me! Why I particularly like it for Stony, and what this fic does beautifully, is it uses their class disparity as a point of contention for their characters and relationship. I like young!Tony fics because we see the trauma of his family life and circumstances affecting him in real time. I love to hate Howard Stark <3 plus Stony is all about the tension of their opposing personalities, and AUs like this help highlight Tony's distant family and extreme wealth, and Steve's poverty and loving support system. This fic is also fake dating, which means ✨tension✨. Plus Tiberius Stone is a total guilty pleasure character of mine. Tony has many evil ex's in the comics, and I love to see them used for some good whump. And jealous protective Steve is absolute gold!!! Even if you don't like high school AUs this one is worth a shot because it wasn't written by a high schooler like many are, so it's mature and paced very well.

the girl with the modern face by isozyme

“Nice to meet you. I’m Steve Rogers,” Steve said, sticking his hand out and trying to wrestle the interaction back into something normal.

“I know, sweetheart,” Tony said, ignoring his hand. “Rescue told me all about you.”

“Did you make her?” Steve asked. It had been implied that Tony was a tech-man, and she said he was her boss. It would fit together.

“Yes, the armor, that was me; she’s my bodyguard,” Tony said archly. “Impressed?”

The only good thing about the future is Tony Stark's bodyguard, Rescue. She's beautiful in her red and gold armor, and Steve will never know who she is.

This story changed my brain chemistry when I read it. It's just such a fantastic culmination of so many delicate and beautiful things. Internalized homophobia and identity porn are severely underrated tropes and two of my all time favourites. I find it's hard to get them right, but boy does this story get them right. Also—genderfucked Tony Stark? Yes Yes and Yes. Steve falls for a woman, who is actually a man, who is actually Tony Stark. This hurts both of their feelings immensely. I love the tight-wound Captain and seeing him come to terms with his struggles and bigotry. And the juxtaposition to a flamboyant and open Tony, yessirrrr. Also, comic Stony fics are on a whole other level. They have so much more material to work from, so their characterization and background is really well fleshed out. You don't need to read the comics to understand it, don't worry.

—

I just love talking about this stuff, I will never be short or chill about asks 😅

What made me ship Steve and Tony? Oh GAWSH. Mainly, their opposing natures. Nothing is more compelling than seeing people so close yet so different have this intense magnetism. It's like a puzzle piece, they fit so well because they complete something in each other.

Rivals/enemies creates a lot of tension, especially when they have such a respect and trust for one another even if they don't always like it, it's undeniable. The betrayal and disagreement between them is painful because only those inside your heart can wreck it so intensely. I really like angst, whump, miscommunication, the push and pull. It's so them. They aren't rivals TO friends, they are rivals AND friends. Tony is incredibly Much, Steve is rigid. Tony is controlled by his emotions, Steve is controlled by his morals. Tony is an over-thinker, Steve is all intuition.

Also, have you SEEN the way they look at eachother?!?!? The gazing omfggg. The way they lead together, have such an intense relationship, perfectly in-sync even in disagreement. Their movies? Never without insanely strong feelings for each other, arm touches and long looks, trust broken and rebuilt. TV shows? Eye rolling yet great respect, a deep admiration that will always trump any mistake or disagreement. Bickering boyfriends. Comics? They're so intense everyone just KNOWS something freaky is going on. Divorced /pos. It's always hate or love, these two can never be neutral. Their relationship is incredibly dynamic—they're so soft for each other! They hate each other's guts! They are gonna fuck about it! All three at the same time.

ty for the compliment 🫶 yes this is yap city but I am a very passionate person mk. I could talk about them for hours 💕💔

#stony #ask #seesternsstuff #stevetony #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #fic rec #steve rogers #tony stark

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yanderes-galore · 16 hours ago

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Hi hope you’re doing ok ! Would it be alright if I request a Short story for yandere romance MK where the reader(if possible female if not gn is fine) finds out about his weird dark hobbies /thoughts. Reader tries to keep her distance only for it to backfire immediately. Now reader is trying to escape from MK only for the reader to bump into Mei, hoping to be helped the reader goes to her only for dragon girl to trick them and lead them back to MK much to the reader betrayal and MK joy 🌺anon

Sure! Doesn't look like I added your anon name to my list... so I'll do that before this is posted :) Anyways, I hope I did well... Here's delusional MK having Mei help him keep you for himself.

Two Faced

Yandere! MK Oneshot (With Enabler! Mei)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Mei enables MK, Implied kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Clingy behavior, Secret picture taking, Unwanted affection (Kisses and hugs), Consensual turned forced relationship.

It was hard to say 'no' when it came to your ex, MK. He didn't force you into anything... but it was hard to stand your ground when he gave you those damn puppy eyes. Unfortunately... you were going to hit your limit at some point.

MK had always been... clingy. Clingy to the point it began to cause problems in your life. You loved him, you really did...

But he could never leave his girlfriend alone if he tried.

You immediately knew something was wrong when you noticed MK's strange behavior. Normally you never suspected a thing, he was just clingy and overly attentive. He's such a sweetheart...

One who apparently stalks his girlfriend.

It was when you found his diary and secret photo album that you noticed MK's behavior. You had a feeling he was watching you. With all those powers of his, anything was possible...

Those items were your breaking point.

You had broken up with MK since you found out his behavior. It was a difficult process, MK didn't make it easy to leave him. Not with all his pleading and tears....

You had distanced yourself from MK after the breakup. You knew he wasn't taking it well. How could you not when he kept blowing up your phone or kept trying to follow you around?

Mei had been the one you usually go to in order to vent. You had told her all about MK's behavior. You worry about him, but at the same time, you're concerned about his unhealthy behavior.

Mei always smiles and nods, listening to your pleas. She's a good friend of MK's too, yet she knows he's been strange lately. It hurts you both to see him cry... but he'll get over it...

....

He never did.

"Baby, please! I miss you!" MK pleads as you run. His condition has only seemed to worsen since the last time you saw him. Has he even showered properly?

"You were supposed to be my girl! I'm sorry I messed up, baby... please come back! I'll be better!" MK yells while you run through the quickly darkening streets.

He had waited until after work to confront you. You had just gotten out of your own job, expecting to walk home like normal. Unfortunately, when you got home...

MK was there with a nervous smile, twitching eagerly as he tried to go in for a hug.

After that you had ditched. You needed to run. You needed to go find help... but who could you—?

Your eyes widen when you see the familiar green attire of your friend. You run down an alley, waiting for MK to pass, before approaching Mei. Tears are in your eyes... you're out of breath...

"Help...!" You plead, Mei giving you a surprised look.

"Hey, girl... what's wrong?" Mei asks, looking concerned with you being so out of breath.

"MK... He's lost it! You gotta help me... I don't know how to fix this...!" You plead, Mei nodding in thought.

"... alright, come on, let's fix this." Mei agrees, quietly taking your hand. You give a thankful smile and follow your friend gratefully.

You're led through the streets. You assume Mei might take you somewhere to get help, or maybe even let you rest at her home. Either way... you feel very comforted by your friend...

However...

After a few minutes you find yourself in front of MK.

"W-What are you doing!?" You plead, looking at Mei with hurt eyes. Her own gaze is conflicted... yet determined.

"You wanted to fix things... right?" Mei whispers, glancing at MK. "In order to do that... maybe you two should talk?"

You can't believe what you're hearing.

"Mei! You found her! You actually found her!" MK squeals, giddy over the fact he finally has his girlfriend back. "Yes! Come here, baby...."

You yelp when MK pulls you into a bone crushing hug, Mei awkwardly watching from the side. She feels horrible... you didn't deserve this. But at the same time...

She couldn't bear to watch MK cry over you anymore, it only made him more destructive....

You struggle but MK is stronger than you. He peppers you in kisses and hugs, whispering pet names as he clings to you. You can't tell if you want to cry... or scream....

"Thank you so much, Mei..." MK whispers, glancing up at his friend. "I'm going to take my baby home now, she and I have some... catching up to do."

Mei nods quietly, watching as MK drags you down the street. You're struggling, tears brimming your eyes as you look to Mei for help. Mei hesitates... but doesn't react.

MK needs you...

Hopefully things go back to normal after this since he has you... right?

#yandere lego monkie kid #yandere lmk #yandere mk #yandere mk x reader

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42ap · 1 day ago

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One morning, in the Oregon shack, Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford were having breakfast together. Fiddleford brought up a paper he’d recently read, The Evolution of Social Attitudes Towards Homosexual Relationships in 20th-Century America: A Historical Analysis, and shared some of the views it mentioned. For example, gay men might tend to pursue fashionable and personalized styles of clothing and have a higher appreciation for pop music, dance music, and the arts. Additionally, they might show a distinctive social behavior pattern with more frequent and intimate interactions within their social circles.

Stanley: Ha, I always thought men who liked theater were kind of sissy.

Stanford: I think the article oversimplifies things. Just because someone likes art doesn’t mean they’re necessarily gay.

Fiddleford: That’s true, just like being gay doesn’t necessarily mean you enjoy theater. I don’t believe that a gay man’s social behavior can be summarized; there are always exceptions. And those who haven’t acknowledged their orientation haven’t been observed either. They probably just seem like regular people, like you and me.

Fiddleford: Haha, but a guy like Stanley probably wouldn’t be mistaken, right?

Stanley: Oh, no, I’ve been with a guy before. But you can’t tell, right?

Fiddleford: Hold on.

Fiddleford: Raccoons doing the jitterbug! You’ve been with a guy??

Stanley: Yeah, it was a long time ago. We were in high school, and we broke up ages ago.

Fiddleford: Wow… that’s… unexpected, in every way. I thought you were into women; I even saw you flirting with Susan at the diner. Don’t you like women?

Stanley: I’ve only been with that one guy. But I guess gender doesn’t mean much to me—I’m open either way. Sex is just sex; as long as there’s chemistry, it’s fine.

Fiddleford: So, back in high school, it was just about sex? Then I’m not sure that would classify as a gay relationship since straight men do that kind of thing too—sorry if that’s too blunt.

Stanley: No problem, I don’t mind. We’re just chatting. We did go on dates a lot, so I guess we were pretty serious back then.

Fiddleford: So it was a relationship? You must have faced a lot of pressure back then.

Stanley: Yeah, some.

Fiddleford: Who confessed first?

Stanley thinking: I don’t think… anyone confessed. We just ended up together.

Fiddleford: You didn’t talk about it? How does that even happen?

Stanford: It happened naturally, just going with feelings.

Stanley: Lust, that’s what it was.

Fiddleford: Wait, uh, Ford, you knew about this?

Stanford: I did.

Fiddleford: Well, that makes sense; you’re twins, after all. I guess secrets are hard to keep. So, when did you two break up?

Stanley: Right around graduation. He was a good student and wanted to go to college in another city. I didn’t care for school and wanted to work right away. We couldn’t agree, so we just split up.

Fiddleford: You didn’t try long-distance?

Stanley: You know that never works. Thinking that letters and calls can keep a relationship going—that’s a lie told by cowards who don’t have the courage to break up. Right, Ford?

Stanford: True enough.

Fiddleford: Makes sense. Sounds like you’ve thought about this for a long time. So, were you the one who broke it off?

Stanley: No, it wasn’t me.

Fiddleford: Oh… I’m sorry. That must have been hard on you. My first breakup had me crying with my banjo in my room for three days. How long did you cry?

Stanley: I didn’t cry.

Fiddleford: Really?

Stanley: It’s been a long time. Everyone goes through breakups; I don’t care anymore.

Fiddleford: But it was your first love, and you broke up over something like that. It’s a shame. Have you kept in touch since?

Stanley: Yeah, we have.

Fiddleford: And now that you’re both working, you haven’t tried to—

Stanley: —Oh, no. No way. Getting back with an ex is just plain stupid.

Fiddleford: But you were happy together, weren’t you? Honestly, distance isn’t an insurmountable problem, and you didn’t break up because of a loss of love. If it were me, I’d at least try to see if it could work.

Stanley: You’ve got the wrong idea. We broke up pretty badly. But yeah, I still have some good memories.

Fiddleford: Oh?

Stanley: We used to go to the beach a lot. We didn’t do much, just talked. Well, and other things. The beach was right by our town. It was beautiful when there weren’t people around, so we’d skip class and go there in the afternoons. A few years back, when I passed through our hometown, I went to see it. Now it’s a tourist spot, packed with people.

Fiddleford: Skipping class? Didn’t you say he was a good student? Why would he skip class?

Stanley: Yeah, why indeed?

Fiddleford: Right? I mean, with all the homework, studying, and essays, I was constantly busy back then. How did he manage it?

Stanley: Huh, I never thought about that.

Stanley: Ford, how did you manage it back then?

Stanforddrizzling maple syrup on pancakes: Stayed up late doing homework.

Stanley: Ah, so that’s it—stayed up late doing homework.

Fiddleford: Oh.

Fiddleford: Wait, hold on.

#GravityFalls #GravityFallsFanart #Stancest #FordPines #StanPines #ArtistsOnTumblr

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sitp-recs · 1 day ago

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HP Rec Fest 2024

day 31: most recent fic you loved

aand that’s a wrap! I’m so happy to close another year with @hprecfest, this was a very fun and cathartic experience. the 3 most recent fics I’ve loved were all written by the same brilliant mind - which btw is someone I’ve never recced before - so I thought I’d make this final post a love letter to the incredibly talented @garagepaperback. they had already slayed me with an impressive debut coyote ugly, but the way they were able to reach deep into my soul, dismantle and repair it with the holy triad of soft pornography objection, javelin and soft is beyond my comprehension. these fics might differ in tone and approach but one thing they have in common: peak romance! and I’m talking real romance, check this out:

“It’s not enough to have him so wholly—he’s always been Harry’s like this, boneless or strung up like a bow, a petal bled all over his face, red wandering—Harry wants him further, more. To have the sort of flush won only with a sore muscle, not the picket-white pretty shit only. Whole, a home.” (Excerpt from objection)

the way garage’s Harry feels so real, so relatable, and equally obsessed with Draco? poetic cinema. I really adore his explosive dynamics with a biting yet pliant Draco who knows just how to push all his buttons. the result is a feisty, visceral, wanton and absolutely unhinged relationship that I can’t get enough of. objection is a jealous!Harry treat with hot, decadent sex between exes on Draco’s fake wedding day - to Blaise 😌 I adore the push and pull, the heat, the lush prose, the soft ending!

javelin ruined me in ways I anticipated but did not calculate in totality - I’m particularly sensitive to divorce fics and was shattered by this painful yet gorgeous dive into the ache and the loneliness of a broken relationship you just can’t let go of. what a brilliant character study and a study on marriage itself - profound, introspective, devastating. and have I mentioned the non-con legilimency? 🔥

last but not least, soft plays with some of my favourite kinks in fic (namely: cockwarming, sex spells and Harry being into dirty talk), and delivers all the softness (hah!) I was looking for, plus the romance! I’m always a slut for 8th year secret relationship, and the intimacy here made my heart flutter. their chemistry is hot and sweet, with soft dom Draco indulging Harry and giving him exactly what he wants, bonus points for amazing Goyle!

finding garage’s work was a highlight of my 2024; their gorgeous prose, compelling characters and sweet romance are such a treat, and their smutty collab with eleadore and yikes (see also: the pile collection) is giving me life! good food 🥘 enjoy!

#hp rec fest 2024 #day 31

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acedocx · 2 days ago

Text

it's all been done, more than once

•

h.k.

word count: 13.4K

tags: hueningkai x reader, rockstar!musician!hyuka, college au, reader has anxiety, description of a panic attack, no this is not me projecting shut up, also i suck at writing drunk people please ignore, fluff, slow burn kinda but not really

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, depictions of panic attacks/anxiety, shitty formatting bc the author doesn't know how tumblr formatting works

🎸 author's note: hello! this is my first ever fic, please be kind to me. i started it way back in july, forgot about it, and then was hit with the divine inspiration to finish the whole thing in a week. enjoy!

•••

"are you having fun yet?"

it was all you could do not to smash the overpriced, slightly flat vodka redbull in your hand over your friend's head.

being in college means the acceptance of two undeniable truths: making questionable decisions and being broke. this is how you often found yourself at these cheap, shitty dive bars.

your lovely, wonderful best friend beomgyu (who would not appreciate having a glass smashed over his head and his outfit ruined, you reminded yourself) was the main perpetrator of your frequent nights out. beomgyu had bought in very early to the "college-is-freedom, good-time-not-a-long-time" mindset, often dragging you out at obscene hours during the summer to whatever club or bar was still open.

and then the next one.

and the next.

fortunately for the both of you (mostly him), classes didn't start for the fall semester for about another week. not that he had anything to worry about, he was kind of a genius—school came as naturally as breathing to him, something you had always sort of envied.

you forced a pained smile and spoke as loudly as you could through gritted teeth,

"yep. loads."

truth be told, you hated bars. they were loud, overwhelming, overpriced, unclean, and more often then not, way too crowded—people packed together like sweaty, drunk sardines. it's not like you were a germaphobe, but it's places like this where you were coming into contact with way more bodily fluids than you felt comfortable with.

the bar you found yourself in now was admittedly on the cleaner side, and to beomgyu's credit, he did pick the one you hate the least—a bar called 'annex'. it was an accurate name, as the bar was a small addition to a bigger restaurant, and was pretty charming despite its size.

it was certainly not without flaws; the chipped wooden bar barely left enough space for the bartenders to move around, even without the addition of bottles of liquor, miscellaneous knick-knacks, and probably illegally obtained road signs lining the walls. every time you looked, you saw something you hadn't seen before. had that poster been there the last time? what about the traffic light?

you really didn't like this scene at all—it made you nervous. but you loved beomgyu, and it's not like you didn't enjoy a drink or two, so it was kind of difficult to say no—especially once your cognitive abilities had been reasonably dampened by the alcohol.

"woahh...negative nancy over here," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender and stumbling back a bit.

"that is not my name." you couldn't help but crack a small smile at beomgyu and his outdated phrases.

"i know what your name is, silly...it's an esspression!"

"ex-pression. how many drinks does that one you have there make?"

"s'what i said....and only like....three." you could see the gears in his head turning. "or...maybe...maybe six...which s'basically the same!" beomgyu said indignantly.

you rolled your eyes. you felt kind of bad being so off-put by the place, you didn't want to ruin gyu's fun—but you couldn't help it. your head was beginning to pound from the lights and the overwhelming sound of chatter coming from every direction, and the walls felt like they were closing in further and further by the second.

neon signs and LED lights were about the only illumination in the room, bathing everyone in purple, red, and blue hues. the poorly painted black stool you sat on wobbled as you craned your neck at the crowd in front of you; people were crammed together at tables, lined up outside the never-empty bathroom—or for the most part, directly in front of the tiny stage at the far end of the room.

before you could protest, the conversations in the room noticeably quieted—the humming noise of a guitar amp being plugged in and the feedback from a microphone replacing the voices.

this was the only part you truly kind of enjoyed. the music. most of the music at these kinds of places was...subpar at best; cover bands butchering classics, some guy in a graphic tee and flannel with guitar tabs on his phone thinking he's the next elliot smith—usually cringey, but entertaining nonetheless. but every once in a while, there will be a singer or a band that seems too big for the cardboard box of a bar they're in, too talented for such a small audience.

he looked about the same as any college musician would—nervous, a little shaky, bright eyed with hope that hasn't quite been crushed by the world yet (and probably aided by a few drinks, too).

he was tall—like, tall. imposing, almost, with broad shoulders and long limbs, juxtaposed with a soft, anxious expression. his clothes caught your eye too—black band tee, ripped black jeans, and what looked to be a black leather battle vest covered in patches you couldn't quite make out and studs on every seam. his grey-blue hair fell into his eyes as he adjusted the microphone from where it hit at about chest-height.

your eyes lingered on his hands. they moved from the microphone and found the neck and strings of the guitar like they belonged there; despite his air of nervousness, there was no doubt he knew exactly what to do with the instrument he had.

you cut your eyes at beomgyu, who attempted to make his way towards the stage before nearly faceplanting onto the black tile floors, catching himself on your shoulder and almost pulling you down with him.

"THAT'S my FRIEND! i-i live with that guy, he's my FRIEND—my BRO, guys! you GOT this, kai, you can...do it! m'so proud of you, bro!" beomgyu raised his drink in the air in an unsteady toast—most of the contents sloshing out and onto your clothes in the process—as he leaned against your shoulder. laughter rippled through the audience and you groaned, screwing your eyes shut, head in your hands in embarrassment.

the boy—kai, his name seemed to be, looked similarly embarrassed, ears tinged red and eyes closed. he shook his head, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"um, hi. i'm hueningkai, or...just—just kai, as my, uh—friend said." he cleared his throat again, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "i'll be playing some music for you guys tonight—mostly original things, but some covers if i hear any good requests, 'kay?" kai gave a small half-smile, fingers finding the frets of the guitar again.

and then he began to play. and you probably had whiplash from how quickly your head snapped up from your hands. the sound that filled the room wasn't a soft cover of some old song—it was loud. it was sharp. the sound of gritty, messy, but intentional and practiced guitar pierced the room, instantly igniting the crowd of people that had gathered around the stage to see this kid play.

"holy shit," you whispered incredulously.

his voice perfectly broke and rasped where the music called for it, gaze shifted from soft to trenchant—all previous nerves seemed to have dissolved. he looked like a different person.

"holy shit," you repeated again to no one in particular. "this guy's a rockstar."

you became suddenly aware that you were no longer being used as an armrest. beomgyu had managed to regain enough composure to stumble his way into the crowd near the front of the stage, cheering and flailing about in what was probably supposed to be dancing.

you were torn between recording him for blackmail purposes later and going to get him before he got sick all over the other guests. finally deciding on the latter, you slid off the stool, a little woozy yourself.

you made it to beomgyu on two feet with no trouble, gently taking him by the shoulders, pulling him back towards the bar.

"come on buddy, you need some water in you, or you're gonna hate yourself tomorrow," you chided as he squirmed away from you.

"noooooo....m'having fun...wanna watch kai," he whined. "that's my—my...my friend...my friend—"

"i know, but i am also your friend, and this friend would rather you not be sick all over these people and the poor staff have to clean it up, you're gonna get us banned from this bar too, come on," you tugged a little harder—goddamn, he was stronger than he looked—sighing in frustration.

in the midst of your battle with beomgyu, your eyes met kai's as he played the final notes of the song. his silvery hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his face and neck which shone with exertion, hands still on the guitar in the position of the final chord. but his eyes. it was his eyes that stopped you.

in them, you saw the thing that you missed from a lot of these dive-bar musicians—from a lot of people in general. granted, covered songs aren't easy to add to, and it's not like it's a concert. but there's no soul in the music. they perform to make money and get out. kai had passion. as cheesy as it sounded, when you looked into his eyes, you knew this was his life, whether he was making money from it or not. the stage was his home, and you knew it.

for a moment, you felt like you couldn't move—paralyzed by this guy with his guitar, his pretty hands and his starry eyes. and then you felt beomgyu lean into your shoulder, head dropping against your shoulder, and the moment was gone.

"i don't...don't feel s'good..." he slurred, his whole body weight against you now. you sighed and propped him up, arm slung around your shoulder as you carried him outside.

"yep, see, i told you. this is why you shoulda listened to me when i told you three drinks ago that you should slow down. alright, let's get you back home, buddy."

you cast one last glance over your shoulder at kai, still panting from exhaustion and exhilaration, eyes still bright with the high of the music. you wondered if he even knew how bright he shone on that stage.

•••

"you did this to yourself, gyu."

"if you...speak again, i'm throw—urgh—i'm throwing up on your shoes next," beomgyu groaned.

thank the powers that be for the invention of the uber. you had both made it back to gyu's apartment in mostly one piece, and beomgyu himself, poor thing, was now curled up on the cold blue tile of the bathroom floor, clutching your hand like it was the only thing tethering him to this mortal plane—which, to him, it probably felt like it was.

you'd been here for about two hours, not wanting to leave beomgyu alone, and honestly not totally reconciled with the idea of getting an uber alone at three in the morning.

you'd asked him where his other housemates were, and through his hiccups, groaning, and gagging, you'd deduced that all of them were out for individual reasons; vacation, out with a friend, with family. you weren't sure which was which, and you decided not to push the subject. you hadn't actually met his housemates before, and this probably wasn't the best first impression.

you leaned your head back against the tiled wall of the bathroom, hand rubbing circles on beomgyu's back. you closed your eyes. your head still swam slightly from the alcohol, even though you had tried not to drink all that much. you looked over pityingly at the long-haired boy beside you, stomach revolting against him. poor thing.

"gyu?"

"ugh..."

"do you want me to get you more water?" you asked softly.

"ugh..."

"i'm assuming that's a yes. okay, i'll be back."

you pushed yourself to your feet, steadying yourself and making your way to the kitchen.

the apartment was small, but cute in a way. cozy. and messy, you noted; even in your altered state, you did double takes at some of the odd sights you saw around the place. why on earth is there a bike in the kitchen? you asked yourself, making a note to ask beomgyu about it at a later date.

as you finished pouring what was probably the sixth glass of water in two hours, you heard the handle of the front door begin to turn.

you spun to face the door in alarm. was someone trying to break in? what on earth could you do in this situation? you can't fight, you can't even walk straight! oh god, someone's gonna come in, rob gyu and his housemates blind, kill you twice—

the door opened and you were met with the same grey-blue hair and soft eyes you had seen on the stage two hours ago. ah, that's right. five people live here.

"oh, um, hi," you mentally smacked yourself in the head at your alarm. of course he lives here, beomgyu said it earlier. of course he's getting home now, it only makes sense. you quickly set the glass of water down and tried to smooth out your most likely unfixable outfit. "hi. i'm beomgyu's friend, i was with him at the bar you played at tonight. he's, uh, he's in there," you motioned toward the bathroom with a grimace. "he's...not doing too great."

hueningkai looked just as surprised to see you, mouth open slightly in shock, shaking his head to bring himself back.

"ah, thank you. he really can't hold his alcohol, can he? sorry about this, by the way, oh god, it's a mess in here—" red crept up his face as he took in the mess of the kitchen. you giggled slightly; maybe it was the alcohol, but you had the passing thought that he's kind of cute like this.

"don't worry about it, i'll be gone tomorrow. hueningkai, right? i watched you play, you're really good," you say.

he averted his eyes, half-smiling, ears still red. "ah, thank you, yes that's me. i appreciate that. and just kai is—is fine," he said, glancing once at you and away again.

you were suddenly extremely aware of how you looked—clothes twisted at odd angles from hours on the floor, hair simultaneously sticking to your face and out in all directions, face colored pink from embarrassment and the aforementioned vodka redbulls.

you quickly began trying to adjust your hair and you opened your mouth to respond, but were cut off from a drawn-out groan from the bathroom, making both you and kai cringe slightly. you sucked a breath in through your teeth.

"yeah, i'm gonna get this water to him before he starts trying to crawl out here after me. nice to meet you, kai," you say, waving slightly and grabbing the glass off the table, walking what you hoped didn't look like too quick a speed back to the bathroom, praying you didn't trip and fall.

•••

you refused the next time beomgyu invited you out, hoping desperately to avoid another tipsy run-in with kai.

realistically, you weren't that drunk, and surely you hadn't looked all that bad—at least not nearly as bad as gyu did. however, in the days since you arrived back to your dorm, you had managed to convince yourself that you could never look hueningkai in the face again, it would simply be too mortifying.

the last days of the summer holiday slipped by quickly, and classes began with much anticipation and even more dread.

the walk to your first lecture felt like miles, stomach twisting with nerves. you'd done this before. it's only lecture. but there's something about the first day of classes, when you don't know if you'll know anyone, looking upon unfamiliar faces and being thrust into an unfamiliar subject with no idea of how a professor will teach or test—it made you nauseous with anxiety every time.

and unfamiliar subject matter it was. advanced music theory and appreciation. you were a senior in college, an english major, and had finished up the majority of the required courses to graduate. all that was left was to fill the spaces with electives and courses that maybe you'd find interesting—or that would at least boost your GPA. that is how you ended up here, with a music theory course.

the idea is that it'll boost my GPA, you thought to yourself as you stepped into the chilly lecture hall. if i understand it at all. it did say advanced. you paused in front of the classroom door for a moment, hands shaking slightly. i did choir in high school, i remember the basics. it can't be that bad.

you pushed the door open, immediately greeted with chatter that surrounded you on all sides. you didn't really think to check how many people were in the class, and felt your heart sink into your stomach as you took in the unprecedented number of students. there had to be at least sixty, if not more.

"oh, no. no, no, no, no," you mumble to yourself, frantically scanning the room for a familiar face. your lungs felt as though they were shrinking with every attempted breath, heart rate picking up, uncomfortable warmth creeping up your face.

sixty-plus people who you didn't know, in a subject you didn't know, in a classroom you weren't familiar with—this was your idea of hell. what if you embarrass yourself? what if you don't make any friends? what if you don't understand the material? what if it tanks your GPA? what if—

a flash of blue-grey caught your eye, your head snapping over to the source. you admittedly felt relief wash over you as you recognized the side profile of hueningkai, staring intently at the notebook in front of him, scribbling down something you couldn't make out. there was one open seat left next to him. your only opportunity.

all previous notions of never looking him in the face again forgotten, you hurried from the door, down to the row where he sat. he didn't even notice you approach, too intent on writing what looked to be sheet music. you cleared your throat.

"this seat taken?" you asked softly.

kai's head jerked up, obviously startled, cheeks and ears tinged a familiar red with surprise.

"oh, hi! uh, no, no it isn't, you're good!" he said, shifting to the right as to give you enough room to put your things down. you smiled gratefully at him, hurrying into the seat, immediately feeling some of your nerves dissipate at being sat down at last.

"i'm glad to see a familiar face. i don't know anyone in here," you gave kind of a half-hearted laugh, hoping he couldn't tell how nervous that fact actually made you.

"i understand. that's the worst feeling. im glad i have a few friends in here—oh, one of my housemates is in here actually. but, he's avoiding me right now, i think."

"oh? where? and, why?"

"two rows up, four to the left. and because i maybe ate the last of his cereal this morning," he added sheepishly, glancing up to where you assumed the housemate in question was sitting.

"oh, criminal offense," you said, following kai's gaze. there was a boy there, glaring back down at him. he had plush lips and an intense gaze; his hair was a dark cherry red, his bangs falling messily into his eyes, still remaining somehow fashionable. you turned back to kai, shaking your head in mock disdain. "truly deplorable."

"yes, yeonjun was not happy with me. i'm surprised i made it out of the house alive and in one piece."

you giggled, watching as the boy—yeonjun, kai had said—stuck his tongue out at kai before returning to scrolling on his phone.

before you could start up another conversation, the professor walked in, and a hush fell over the room. you didn't catch the professor's name. or, for that matter, anything else he introduced in his first lesson.

within fifteen minutes, whatever modicum of confidence you had in understanding the course was completely crushed to nothing. these were words you'd never heard before, symbols you'd never seen—half the time, you could've sworn he was speaking another language. he is, you reminded yourself. a lot of music theory jargon is in italian—that makes me feel a little better.

you stopped processing the words coming out of the professor's mouth about forty-five minutes in. you glanced over at kai, not sure whether you'd be more or less relieved if he looked as lost as you.

he didn't, of course. he was completely attentive, eyes locked onto the board at the front of the room, nodding every once in a while in understanding. he didn't even seem to be taking many notes, though he did scribble a few down.

your eyes trailed down once more to his hands, where they fidgeted with his mechanical pencil. you felt that same feeling you did at 'annex', the same thought crossing your mind as when you saw his hands rest on the guitar—his hands, though nervous, were practiced and knowledgeable. and they really are such pretty hands, you thought.

you only came back to yourself when you heard the sound of chairs scraping and people scurrying, the hum of chatter from before resuming.

"you okay? you look..." kai trailed off, looking for a nice way to finish the sentence.

"like all my hopes and dreams of passing have been crushed to dust and i am now reconsidering all decisions that have led me to this moment?"

"uh, yeah, something like that," he laughed.

"i thought he was speaking another language, i felt so lost."

"to be fair, you're half-right, a lot of musical terms are based in—"

"in italian, i know."

you took a deep breath, putting your head in your hands, fingers tangling in your hair as you shook your head slowly.

"i am so undeniably, irrevocably, unequivocally fucked, hueningkai," you said, your tone so serious it almost made you laugh at yourself.

"come on, don't beat yourself up! i'm sure you'll get it!" he encouraged, tilting his head to the side with a half-smile. "hey, if it makes you feel any better, i felt like i had forgotten twenty-two years of learned comprehension skills in my literature class earlier."

"seriously? i love literature!"

"maybe we can help each other out, then."

you gave him a grin, the warmth of a new friendship alleviating the cold dregs of anxiety that still snaked through your stomach. "yeah, maybe so."

maybe this semester wouldn't be so bad.

•••

it was a grey, chilly october afternoon, the air heavy and damp with the coming storm. you glanced through the library study room window for the first time in hours, startled by the lack of light. you and hueningkai had been hunched over a library table, poring over your respective subjects for—how long had it been? four? maybe five hours now? your head swam with intervals and time signatures, scales and symbols you didn't understand.

"think of it like the math part of music," kai had tried to explain. "adding and subtracting different notes, chords, harmonies, dynamics n'stuff, to create an instrumental!"

you had nodded along, made the appropriate "ohhh"'s and "mhm"'s, but truthfully you were no closer to understanding how it worked than you had been when you started. you leaned back in your chair, sighing and wincing as your spine voicing its dissent at your posture.

your eyes fell on kai who was sat in front of you, eyes focused intently on a copy of 'the metamorphosis' by franz kafka, notebook and papers scattered haphazardly across the table. he didn't look to be in much better shape than you were, his brows furrowed and his hand tangled in his hair in a mix of concentration and frustration.

eventually, with a groan of annoyance, kai rested his head on the table, closing the book in defeat.

"but why is he a bug?"

"it's probably a metaphor."

"for what?"

you paused, thinking carefully. "for a lot of things! it depends on how you look at it," you said eventually, and giggled slightly at the unimpressed look on kai's face.

"well, let's see. what do you know about modernist literature?"

"that it was weird.".

"well, yes," you said in mock exasperation. "but what do you know about it historically?"

he thought for a moment, gears turning in his head as he thought back to the lecture notes he had just gone over. your eyes fell on his hands as they often did now, and you noticed that he seemed to be playing an imaginary piano as he thought, as if playing a melody only he could hear.

"let's see...uh, there was a lot of new stuff happening, like in science and psychology and inventions and whatnot," he began, glancing at you for approval and smiling slightly when you nodded at him to keep going.

"world war one had just happened, so there was a lot of unrest and social disorder, and a lot of anxiety and feelings of...maybe isolation? brought around by that," he said, nodding to himself.

"good, you're right! and what are some characteristics of modernist literature?" you asked, excited to be talking about something you understood for once. l

kai furrowed his brows once more, fingers playing that silent melody on the table again. you wondered if he was always composing, even if it was subconsciously.

"um...human thought? like the human psyche? language? perspective? am i even close to the mark here?" he laughed nervously.

"you are, you're doing great! those are all parts of it. so, in conjunction with the social context you mentioned before, maybe gregor being a bug is commentary on the feelings of isolation, loneliness, and anxiety of people during this time! maybe his dislike for his job and the coldness of his higher-ups and family is indicative of kafka's feelings on corporate bureaucracy and capitalism! maybe it's a metaphor for struggling with a chronic condition like an illness that causes the person to become not-themselves, and the rift that it creates in a family, who knows!

"that's the beauty of modernist literature, it all depends on perspective! instead of falling short because, of course, human language is inadequate at actually conveying things, it relies on that fact—the story is different to everyone!" you said excitedly.

literature and writing had really been the only two subjects that had come naturally to you. even music—which you loved and appreciated for it's artistry—was difficult to you when it came to the theory portion. it wasn't that you weren't good at other things, but you never had to work as hard to understand books. there was something in the analysis of it, picking apart the layers of a novel, building a broader historical and social context through the author's commentary—it was just fun for you.

you felt your face warm slightly as you looked back at kai, suddenly slightly embarrassed of your outburst. his expression was unreadable, somewhere between confusion, interest, epiphany, and something soft that sparkled just behind his eyes. it was similar to the glimmer you had seen in them at his first performance at 'annex' a month ago.

but he cleared his throat and looked back down at his notes, and it was gone.

"yeah, yeah, that, um, that makes sense. i hadn't thought about it that way. you'd make a good teacher," he added.

"i guess it's a good thing that it's what i want to do, then," you giggled.

"you want to teach?" he asked, 'the metamorphosis' now forgotten as he propped his chin up with his hand, leaning forward with interest.

you nodded, "mhm! i—well, i guess it's pretty obvious what i want to teach," you said sheepishly. "what about you? what are you majoring in? are you doing something with music?"

kai's expression hardened, and his hands ceased their playing on the table.

"no, i...i'm just majoring in business. i'm taking this class as an elective for credit hours, like you."

"what? really? but...don't you love music?" you asked, bewildered.

"of course i do, more than anything," he murmured, a wistful look in his eyes. "but it won't go anywhere. it doesn't make enough money, and i just...don't think i'm good enough for it to be a stable career choice, honestly."

you were genuinely floored. kai seemed puzzled at your bewildered expression, snickering a little at your wide eyes and mouth that was slightly ajar. eventually you found words again, shaking your head slightly as you spoke.

"not, not good—are you kidding ?! you don't think you're a good enough musician to have a career in it?!" you couldn't believe it. this boy who you believed to be a true star, who had music in every aspect of his being, didn't believe he was good enough to be a musician.

"well, i mean...no, not really," kai said hesitantly, obviously a little stunned by your reaction.

"sorry, it's just...i can't believe that," you scoffed, shaking your head again. "i can't believe it. you're amazing, i mean truly amazing—with all due respect, the other musicians at 'annex' have nothing on you."

you began to see that familiar tinge of red make its way across kai's face and ears as he smiled shyly.

"thank you, thanks, that—that means a lot, but...i mean, it's just such an oversaturated industry, y'know? everyone wants to make music and get famous. and it just, it sucks, because it's about the money and not the craft. i'm not an elitist or anything, there's a lot of modern music that i love! but it really bothers me to see music that isn't made out of expression or originality, but made for money or fame, y'know?"

you nodded slowly, feeling a pang of sadness for him. you wanted to tell him how good he really was, how the first time you had seen him perform you couldn't take your eyes off of him, how you admired the way his hands looked at home on the frets of a guitar, how he seemed music incarnate to you.

but the words seemed to stick in your throat, and all you could respond with was a choked, "yeah."

the silence that followed was denser than the air outside. you noticed it had finally begun to rain, sunset obscured by dark clouds as it came down in sheets of blue-grey. like kai's hair, you thought, before immediately shooing the idea away. you broke the silence first, standing and stretching your stiff limbs, groaning at the ache of sitting in one place for five hours.

"oh-kay, if we're gonna keep up this studying thing, i've got to get some caffeine in me before i actually fall asleep. are you down for coffee?" you asked, already throwing your binders and papers back into your backpack.

"yeah! yeah, for sure," kai responded, words still slightly stilted from the awkward silence.

you turned towards the door quickly, trying to suppress the thought of how cute he looked when he was embarrassed. you noticed his hands had begun playing again—a different, slower melody.

"wonderful! you're driving."

•••

"what do you mean the heating doesn't work? do you enjoy misery? do you crave death?" your voice came out shaky and uneven, spoken through chattering teeth as you felt the cold rain soak deeper into your clothes. hueningkai looked at you, face a mix of amused and apologetic.

"i told you, we should've gone in your car. here, there's blankets in the back," he reached back behind the passenger seat (putting you in close proximity, which you tried not to think about) and pulled out a fluffy throw blanket, which you gratefully accepted.

"no heating, no cameras, no nothing—dude, how old is this car?"

"well, i've had it since high-school," kai mused, "and it was my dad's before it was mine. it's from 2002, it's not that old!"

"is there even bluetooth in this thing?"

"nope, but there is a cd player!"

"oh god, it's like the fuckin' dark ages," you groaned dramatically, sliding down into the worn leather seat of kai's car. he rolled his eyes at your theatrics, scoffing at you as he pulled out of the library parking lot. you gave him a teasing smile, pointing to the glove box.

"cds are in here?"

he nodded, and you took that as permission to take a look for yourself.

"alright, let's see, what does mr. music theory have to listen to—oh, there's some good stuff in here! alice in chains, metallica, paramore—i love paramore, awesome, awesome...the offspring, so true—wait, holy shit, is this 'selfish machines'? i love pierce the veil!"

"and what do you know about pierce the veil?" kai laughed.

"hey, i thought you weren't an elitist," you teased. "i still like my middle school emo music, thank you very much. but my best friend from high-school loved pierce the veil, even saw them in concert once. this one and 'a flair for the dramatic' were their faves," you explained.

"they have good taste. that's the reissue, i think—the one from 2013?" when you gave a small hum of confirmation, kai continued, "i like that one. it has one of my favorite songs on it."

"oh, the bonus track, you mean? i like that one too—'kissing in cars', right?"

"mhm," he said, smiling as you opened the case and pushed the cd into the drive. the familiar fast drums and the piercing sound of the guitar filled the car, and you sighed, reminiscing on drives like this with your friend—simpler times. you had moved away, and they went to a different college now, but you still talk.

"they just have such a cool sound," kai observed, and you hummed in agreement, smiling slightly still.

"kai, you write your own music and stuff, right?" you inquired, suddenly curious.

"yeah, why?

"what's the hardest part about it, and what do you enjoy the most? composition? lyrics?"

"no one's ever asked me that before." kai looked slightly shocked at the question, but quickly shook his head, turning his eyes back to the road. "i think lyrics are the hardest. building instrumentals and making sure they flow together is fun, but putting lyrics to them isn't always easy. that whole thing about originality and expression applies here too—everything has been said in every way, and it's hard to find a way to express what i'm trying to say in a...i dunno, a meaningful way, an impactful way, y'know?"

"yes, i understand. the ineptitude of human language strikes again," you mused. "just like the modernists said."

kai went quiet, and you could see the gears turning in his head as the understanding dawned on him. "yeah...yeah, yes, exactly!" kai exclaimed excitedly. you smiled fondly.

"see, you got it! but yeah, i'd imagine lyrics are hard. i mean, just writing in general is hard, especially stuff like poetry."

"do you write?"

"mmm, sometimes! less than i used to—mostly just sporadic things typed into my phone at ungodly hours of the night when i just...need to get the feelings out. my poor notes app has seen lifetimes, it's a war zone in there," you laughed.

"makes sense! that's usually when i do my lyrics too, but more often than not, that's when i start producing. it's like as soon as the feeling hits me, the melody...just manifests in my head, and i have make it right then," kai responded eagerly.

you had completely lost track of the time, enraptured by the conversations, barely even registering when you pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop. as the first notes of the final track on the album began to play, you moved to undo your seatbelt and get out of the car, but kai's hand on your wrist stopped you.

"wait, can we...can we listen to this one first?" he asked, seemingly shocked at his own actions, familiar blush becoming visible once more.

"yeah."

your voice was barely above a whisper, and you almost couldn't tell if you had said the words aloud. all your attention was focused on where kai's hand met yours, sending electricity through your entire body. when his hand finally moved from your wrist, you couldn't ignore the empty disappointment that settled in your chest.

this was the opposite of whatever you had felt in that classroom, or in any bar. it was like the world had disappeared, dissolved by the rain, the only remnants of it the sound of the downpour and the song playing softly from the speakers. as you watched kai as he listened to the music, you thought he looked almost worshipful, eyes closed and lips parted slightly, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his hands once again playing invisible keys—in those moments, it truly felt like you were the only two people in the world.

this intimacy, the feeling of being alone with another person, it was almost suffocating—in the best way. like your lungs were full of energy that begged to be released instead of being choked by panic.

and though all you were doing was sitting in a car with a boy you had barely become friends with, listening to an old album on a shitty stereo, as surely thousands had done before you and thousands would after, it felt sacred—like it was an experience only you and kai could share.

the song began to fade out, and kai turned, opening his eyes and holding your gaze. starry, glimmering eyes—they held galaxies, universes. the feeling when you looked into them was a sensation not unlike vertigo; the force of it could've knocked you over had you been standing.

"we're here," kai murmured.

"yeah," you breathed.

"we should...go inside," he whispered again.

"yeah," you echoed, as if it was the only thing you knew how to say. he was the first to break the eye contact, nodding and giving a small smile as he turned off the car and opened the door.

everything rematerialized around you; the cars, the bustle, the people—the moment was over, and suddenly you were once again surrounded by the crushing weight of the world around you.

•••

it was a coincidence that kai happened to be playing at the bar you were going to. or, at least it was enough of a coincidence that you could convince yourself it was just a coincidence.

fall break had finally rolled around, and you had at last gotten into the swing of things, your grades were comfortable, mostly thanks to your study sessions with hueningkai that happened roughly twice a week—which you didn't want to admit were becoming more and more difficult to focus in.

predictably, beomgyu had insisted the two of you go out to celebrate the break.

"but it's for a good reason! to like....celebrate making it this far and stuff!" he whined at you from your doorway.

"don't give me that, you will take any excuse to get wasted, gyu," you answered, sprawled on your bed as you scrolled through your phone.

"that is not true, and i am offended that you would insinuate such a thing. on an unrelated note, pretty please can we go out tonight?"

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at his antics. truth be told, it's not like you were opposed to it—you'd probably appreciate the change in scenery from your less-than-impressive dorm room. you just didn't really want to go to the same three bars with the same six regulars and same four bands that play.

"fine, fine. since you have no other friends to bother, i'll be generous. but i pick the place," you added, ignoring the indignant, "hey!" from beomgyu. you were already scrolling through search results on your phone.

no. no. too small. too fancy. been there. been there. hate that one. you sighed, losing hope that there would be any new sights for you tonight, only shitty LEDS, chipped counters, and traffic lights.

it was then that you saw a new name on the familiar list of bars. 'divine machine', five miles away, in the heart of town.

"hm, that's new," you mumbled to yourself. you clicked through the links provided—the pictures of the inside looked extremely promising, though you didn't want to get your hopes up too much only to be tricked by good camerawork.

one of the links led you to the bar's instagram page. it was new, having just opened about two weeks ago. most of the posts were pictures of the inside, the stage, the bar—it seemed to be a metal or rock concert themed bar, which piqued your interest a lot. one of the posts was in the style of an 80's flyer that you would see advertising a band. 'new talent every night!' it read. 'come to divine machine to see stars be born!'

it was the picture that sold it for you. you'd recognize that piercing gaze and that blue-grey hair anywhere. hueningkai was the cover of the flyer, seemingly mid-performance—hands poised perfectly on the frets, hair tousled, in the throes of whatever song he had been captured performing. trying to ignore the way your heart leaped in your chest, you offered your phone to beomgyu, hopefully looking nonchalant.

"what about this one?" you asked. "it's new."

"ooh, exciting! yeah, sounds good!"

"you don't care where we go as long as there's alcohol, right?"

"i'm going to stop inviting you if you keep being mean to me."

"you'd be going out alone."

"that is irrelevant and untrue."

you found yourself at the entrance of 'divine machine' three hours later, still trying to convince yourself that you were not hoping to see kai perform again. he's just talented, you told yourself. i appreciate good musicianship.

immediately, you were much more impressed with this bar than any of the others. the photos didn't lie—the place was spacious and clean, boasting a large stage near the front of the room, decked out like a rock concert with speakers and microphones and scary-looking instruments, prop black leather jackets hanging off some of the speakers and spotlights of all colors pointed in different directions. posters of bands—some familiar, some obscure, lined the walls, along with a selection of guitars that appeared to have signatures on them. the haze from the smoke machine was tinted blue-purple from the lights overhead—it was well-lit, you had to give them that.

"this is pretty promising," you whispered to beomgyu, who you knew was only half-listening as he read the drinks on the menu.

it was early on in the night—well, as early as early could be for a bar, only about 8:30p.m.—but groups of people were already filtering in and mingling. you felt the familiar grip of anxiety on your chest, subconsciously shrinking back into the bar.

beomgyu noticed immediately, drinks forgotten as he looked at you worriedly.

"hey, if you don't want to do this, we can go home. i know this isn't easy for you," he began, reaching for his bag that he had set on a barstool. you shook your head probably a little too quickly.

"no, i'm—i'm okay," you managed to get out. "sorry. i'll be fine, just takes some getting used to, don't worry."

"don't be sorry! it's okay. the offer still stands, whenever you're ready to go we'll go, okay?" gyu said, taking you by the shoulders. you felt your heart grow warm at your best friend's sincerity.

you had met beomgyu your sophomore year at college, having a statistics class with him and sharing a desk. the trauma of that class had bonded the two of you for life. your friendship had grown closer over the next two years, your juxtaposed dispositions balancing each other out well. and though gyu was a troublemaker and a tease, he was nothing if not caring. he knew when to stop and always knew how to make you feel more comfortable.

"okay. don't worry," you repeated, trying to convince yourself more than anything.

"i'm not worrying. it's you who's—well, look who it is!" beomgyu's gaze moved over your shoulder as he waved excitedly at someone behind you. you didn't have to guess who, smile already pulling at the corners of your mouth, and heart rate picking up as you turned around to see kai approaching the two of you.

he looked similar to the first time you had seen him perform, if not more decked out in his rocker attire. ripped black jeans with chains falling from the belt loops, combat boots, studded bracelets and silver rings, a black muscle tee, and the same leather battle vest that you noticed had more patches added since last time.

honestly, it's a wonder you noticed any details at all; you were mentally cursing yourself as you tried and failed to divert your attention from kai's arms, the conversation him and gyu were having entirely lost upon you. he's stronger than he looks, i suppose, you thought to yourself. i don't think i've ever seen him not in a t-shirt or hoodie.

your half-hearted attempts at convincing yourself that you were staring out of shock, not awe, were cut short by beomgyu shoving your shoulder slightly, snapping you from your thoughts.

"quit spacing out over there, are you even listening?" he asked, rolling his eyes dramatically, earning a snicker from kai. you felt your face flush as you forced your eyes to the floor.

"as i was saying, kai, you should let us visit backstage after your performance! we should get VIP treatment, i did give you my phone charger three days ago," gyu stated matter-of-factly. "and this," he pulled you close to him by the shoulders, "is my plus-one."

"i'll consider it," he laughed.

"don't worry about it if it's too much, you don't have to listen to him, he's dramatic." you cut your eyes at beomgyu at the last comment, and he stuck his tongue out in return.

"no, no, it's fine! i wouldn't mind at all! but, i've gotta run guys, have to go get set up and all," kai said, motioning to the stage and beginning to back towards it.

"don't let us keep you, rockstar. break a leg!" you smiled brightly at kai, who started at the nickname before smiling back, waving and turning towards the stage.

once kai was out of earshot, beomgyu whipped around towards you with a ferocity that made you jump slightly.

"and what the hell was that?!"

"jesus christ, what is wrong with—"

"nono, i asked first."

"i have no idea what you're talking about."

"you gave him a nickname," beomgyu said incredulously. "you don't even call me a nickname."

"and i am not starting now," you said through gritted teeth, blush hopefully hidden by the hazy lighting. "it was a one-time-joke thing, nothing interesting. let's go, we can't get close to the stage if we don't hurry."

and hurry you did, despite beomgyu's teasing, earning yourselves pretty decent spots in the crowd. you sipped water this time, hoping your nerves weren't too visible.

eventually, scattered applause broke you from your conversation with beomgyu, and you turned to see kai walking out on stage.

"hi, guys—i'm kai," kai said. you gave a small cheer, clapping softly. kai gave you a knowing smile before continuing, the sudden confidence flustering you a bit. "i'm going to be playing some music for you guys. i don't have a bunch of original stuff, but i have some pretty great covers lined up, alright?"

scattered cheers resounded throughout the crowd, and kai prepared to play the first song. you recognized the intro immediately, and couldn't help but give an incredulous laugh.

"this is pierce the veil!" you said excitedly to beomgyu.

"huhwhat?" beomgyu asked, attention torn away from the beverage he was nursing.

"he's playing pierce the veil! it's 'the new national anthem', from 'selfish machines'!"

"you like them right? those are the ones you n'your friend like?" beomgyu's voice already slurred slightly, even though he couldn't have had more than two drinks already.

"yeah!" you giggled, cheering for kai as he played. you couldn't help but wonder if he did that because of you.

once again, you found yourself hypnotized by kai's performance. all of his nerves and endearing awkwardness seemed to have dissolved, leaving behind a passionate and practiced musician. you were again struck with just how confident and right he looked on that stage, and felt a wave of sadness remembering your conversation in the library.

you couldn't believe he didn't think he was good enough. you thought he was everything.

after a few more covers and a few originals (your favorite of which you think was called "growing pain"), you found yourself being dragged by a tipsy beomgyu behind the stage and into the dressing room where kai waited.

"bro, that was a-mazing, you're so, jus' so talented," beomgyu declared, throwing his arms around kai who tried fervently to push him off.

"do not touch me, i am so warm, please go away—choi beomgyu, if you get sick on me, so help me god, i will kill you," kai laughed. you shook your head, rolling your eyes and laughing as well.

"have some mercy on him kai, he's a lightweight," you said with a tone of mock pity, which beomgyu stuck his tongue out at.

"m'not a lightweight. i'm fine, i'm literally normal," he began, trying to walk in a straight line to prove his point, only to crash down onto one of the sofas, only causing you and kai to laugh more.

"this is bullying..."

"this is the consequences of your own actions," you corrected.

you and kai sat down on the sofa opposite beomgyu, kai sprawling out with his head tilted back, exhausted. you noted how much more confident he looked, the adrenaline of performing still coursing through him, the stage persona not fully faded away.

"that really was amazing. you played pierce the veil!" you exclaimed.

"yeah, i did! i learned that song ages ago, but i guess i only recently remembered it."

"i was excited! and i liked the originals too, of course—'growing pain', i think you called it, just absolutely fantastic. i loved the whole thing," you gushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how excited you were.

"i'm glad, i appreciate it. wow, not even a professional and i've already got a fanbase," he teased. you rolled your eyes, punching him in the arm.

"shut up. you have no such thing. i just recognize talent when i see it," you quipped, hoping the sarcasm in your voice hid your shyness.

"whatever you say—but i mean, coming to all my shows, meeting me backstage...from where i stand, you look like a regular groupie." his voice was teasing and bold, more playful—no, flirtatious—than you were used to. it stopped you cold.

not quite cold—you were very warm, actually. you realized with shame how the words had made your stomach flip, your heart stuttering at the tone. heat crept through your face as you attempted to form a response. the words wouldn't come, your eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing with no sound.

kai seemed stunned by his own words, blush tinting his face too. you held his gaze, unable to look away from his eyes. they were wide with embarrassment, still bright from adrenaline, the embers of that playful boldness still not fully gone out. you saw it again, that soft glow in them, and you wondered what it was he could be thinking about.

"ew, oh my god, get a room," beomgyu whined from where he sprawled dramatically on the couch. the moment was over, the both of you suddenly remembering where you were. you both glared at beomgyu, each grumbling some form of "shut up".

beomgyu held his hands up in mock surrender, slouching back down onto the couch and closing his eyes. you shot a glance at kai, sharing a sly smile with him when he met your gaze.

again, you couldn't shake that feeling when he looked at you—that you were the only two people on earth.

•••

this was the last thing you needed during finals season.

you had wondered how long it was going to take before you cracked under the stress of it all, and that time had finally come, at the worst possible time.

it had been a straight twenty-eight hours of no sleep—twenty-eight head-pounding, jittery, exhausting hours spent poring over books that had stopped looking like words about four hours ago. your laptop's search-engine screen seemed burned into the back of your eyelids, assignments and deadlines swimming before your burning, red-rimmed eyes.

you felt like hell. not just physically, but emotionally too. every time you left your room, you could feel millions of eyes on you, a building, pulsing sense of dread that crawled its way from your stomach to your lungs to your throat, choking even basic conversations to shaky one-word answers.

it was raining again, that december day; the world outside tinted blue and grey with winter. it was like the weather couldn't put forth the effort to be bright either. hueningkai sat across from you, as he always did, once again looking about as disheveled as you. his hair had faded to a dull blue with black roots, much longer than it had been when you had first met him.

you turned your attention back to your own essay assignment, words fading in and out of focus on your laptop screen. essays were usually easy—but having to do four in the span of two days was beginning to take its toll. you heard a sigh from in front of you as kai leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"hmm?" you hummed quizzically.

"i can't even see straight anymore, i'm so tired. i feel like i've been at this one assignment for years," he groaned.

you nodded in agreement, rubbing your own eyes to hopefully clear some of the blur, the throbbing in your head becoming worse by the second. "i feel you."

"i feel like im suffocating in here, don't you feel...choked, in a space like this?"

you hummed again, only half-listening, trying to focus your attention on the assignment at hand and not the knife in your head. you preferred the library to anywhere else, especially now, seeing as being around and talking to people seemed to be getting harder and harder.

"you can go somewhere else if you'd like, if it'll help you study better."

"we could go—"

"i told you already, i cannot go to 'divine machine'. i—i know it's not busy hours, i cannot go, i'm sorry."

kai seemed taken aback by your sharp words. he was right, you were starting to feel choked in the dusty study room, surrounded by the pounding in your head and the awareness of another person's presence.

the shame was upon you all at once, both at having snapped like that, and of having another person see you this way—especially someone you genuinely liked. the fluorescent lights above suddenly became glaringly bright, humming with previously unnoticed electricity. you became aware of your clothes, how they didn't feel clean, how your hair wasn't clean and stuck to your scalp, how your body ached from stagnation, how everything around you suddenly felt wrong—too bright, too close, too loud.

dread is cold. dread is a heavy, oozing thing that sits in your stomach and slowly infects you. panic? panic is hot. you can feel the way the flames of it flare and writhe their way into every part of your body. hands, arms, stomach, chest, throat, eyes, face—all burning with the shame of being perceived. you can feel every nerve ending in your body and everything it is interacting with, all sound drowned out by the blood throbbing in your head.

kai gave a small scoff, shrugging his shoulders and returning his gaze back to his assignment. "yeah, no, it's fine, i get it. people are scary."

and you knew he didn't mean it like that. but that was all it took. you shoved yourself back from the desk, grabbing your things and storming out the door, the only thing on your mind getting somewhere dark and quiet—somewhere with no people. your throat burned and tears dripped down your face, blurring your already-foggy vision. you stumbled towards the library door, finding it harder and harder to breathe. you didn't even hear kai calling after you.

everywhere you looked, everywhere you turned, there were people. people, people everywhere—you couldn't escape them. countless eyes focused on you, more than would even be possible, but you could feel it. the whole world was watching you fall apart, watching you ruin a friendship you tried so hard to build. he can see me, i'm embarrassing myself, was all you could think. he thinks i'm stupid. this is stupid. he thinks i'm embarrassing. this is embarrassing. i'm an embarrassment. why would he ever want me? even if he did, i am scaring him away, i'm too much, i have to leave, i'm too much, i have to get out, it's too much, too much, too—

and suddenly you were outside, the cold december rain sending a shock through your system. you took a deep, ragged inhale, the shock from the cold allowing a moment of clarity. as you slowly staggered to your dorm hall (you had the fleeting thought of how grateful you were to live so close by), the embers of shame still hot within your chest, you thought of kai.

you opened the door to your room. you thought of kai. you gently closed it behind you. no one was home but you. you were completely alone, in a dark and quiet room. you thought of kai. you slid down the back of the door, knees to your chest as the tears came once more. you thought of kai. kai who you desperately wanted to see you in a good light, who you wanted to be different for, who you put yourself out there for, who you had fallen for.

you thought of his hair falling into his eyes as he played guitar, you thought of the way his brows furrowed in concentration, you thought of his loud, goofy laugh, you thought of his hands and their inaudible melodies.

you thought of how sure of himself he had looked on stage at 'divine machine', like he belonged on the stage in front of all those people. you thought of how pathetic you felt, knowing that now he knew. you had tried so hard, but now he knew that you couldn't even handle a library.

when the first knock came at the door, it was so soft that you thought you might've imagined it. you remained slumped against the door, tears gone but eyes still burning. then it came again, more frantic this time.

"hey, are you in there? it—it's me, it's kai." his voice was muffled behind the door, but you could still hear that he sounded shaky and slightly out of breath.

"i'm here."

"can i...come in?"

"no."

"...can i ask why?"

you sniffled, wiping your eyes and trying to smooth down your hair. "i look terrible."

"i mean, if it makes you feel any better, i look like they just dredged me out of the ocean."

you scoffed a little at that, smiling despite yourself.

"i'm sorry for what i said. i didn't mean it that way, but i still shouldn't have said it. it's not fair to you," kai said after a beat of silence.

"no, no, i get it. i know you didn't mean it, i'm sorry for freaking out, i should've reacted better, i'm just—i am really, really stressed, and it, like, all crashed down on me at once, a-and—"

"it's okay. you don't have to be sorry, i'm not upset at you or anything—you can't help it."

"i just...i feel like i should be able to help it, y'know? i've lived with it for this long, i should be able to cope with this stuff." your voice shook with frustration, new tears threatening to fall.

"i understand. i really do, i know it doesn't," there was a pause like he was reconsidering, and you had the mental image of him dragging a hand through his hair. "it doesn't seem like i do. but...whenever i perform, like onstage—the minute and a half before i begin to play is the scariest moment. i can feel everyone's eyes on me, the weight of their expectations is so...so overwhelming, it gets hard to breathe. for that minute and a half, every bad thing i've ever believed about myself becomes true, and it feels like everyone can see it," kai's voice shook slightly with the confession, and you wondered if this is the first time he's ever told anyone this. "no matter how many times i perform, that initial fear will always be there."

"you seem so sure of yourself up there. when you begin to play, i mean. it's like you were...made to perform, or something," you murmured, half-hoping he didn't hear you.

"it's all practice. and it's because i love it. it's like you, when you explain literature or writing stuff—it's like the nerves melt away. the joy comes back, y'know? the thing you're doing it for, it overrides the fear. it doesn't mean the fear isn't still there, but it isn't as overpowering."

there was a silence again, longer this time.

"i wanted to write. did i ever tell you that?" you began. "i want to teach, sure—i mean, i love explaining things, but truly what i always wanted to do was write. but i couldn't get over the fear. i could not stand the idea of people...thinking about me. perceiving me in a way i couldn't control, i guess? it used to keep me up at night, honestly. at least in a classroom, i know what i'm doing is for the greater good—whether the students like me or not. but writing? i guess i just—"

"don't feel like you're good enough, so you chose the safer option?"

the silence that followed spoke volumes—lifetimes of dreams crushed by the realities of life and survival.

"can you please let me in? please?" it was spoken so softly, but the gentleness with which it was said nearly brought you to tears again. slowly, you pushed yourself from the floor.

you met his eyes as the door swung open—wide and glimmering as they always were, and he looked as though he had been crying as well. there were a few seconds of tense silence, and the world seemed to stop and hold its breath. kai's mouth was open slightly, like he was trying to find words to say. you broke the silence first, your eyes remaining locked on his.

"i'm sorry to make you come all this way in the rain, you really didn't—"

before you could finish your sentence, kai was through the doorway, wrapping you in his arms tightly. you froze, unsure of how to react.

the feeling was there again, the same as it was in the car back in october—there with him, you were the only two people on earth. you slowly relaxed, reaching your arms around to hug him back, burying your face into his shoulder. he's so tall, you thought.

"thank you," you whispered. kai just nodded in affirmation, fingers unconsciously grazing up and down your back soothingly. you had the fleeting thought that it was like he was playing guitar.

"you're really cold. and wet," you whispered again. you felt his soft laughter reverberate through him, making you smile into the crook of his neck.

"that's on you for making me trek all this way, in the rain, in december."

"you didn't have to follow me, you cannot put that on me."

"and what was i gonna do, just leave you?"

you went quiet at that, realizing that's exactly what you expected him to do. that's what you'd expected of everyone your whole life. you truly felt as though if you didn't constantly have it under control, people would see you and know. you weren't quite sure what they would know, but they would know, and they would see you differently forever. you didn't respond, only held kai a little tighter.

"it's really dark in here. cold too. do...you maybe want to go back to my place and get warm?" kai's voice was hesitant, like the gravity of the words hindered them from being spoken.

after what felt like an eternal silence, you nodded slowly.

"yeah."

•••

it was exactly what you thought it would look like.

posters and pictures lined the walls of hueningkai's room, pops of sharp color and vivacity along an almost-black navy blue wall. you felt a smile forming on your face at the plushies—honestly an unprecedented amount of them. the room was was a bit smaller than you had expected, but cozy in a way. the curtains had been pulled back and the blinds open to let in as much natural light as possible—which wasn't a lot at the moment because of the rain.

it was kind of messy, like the rest of the apartment—a fact you only remembered when upon arrival, you were met with the same bike in the kitchen you had seen four months ago. papers that looked to be sheet music were scattered across his desk and bed, some printed, some seemingly hand drawn staffs and notes. kai turned pink at this, immediately attempting to collect and reorganize, muttering apologies all the while.

what really interested you were the instruments. you noticed the guitar immediately, a sight familiar from watching kai's performances. he also, you noticed, had a bass guitar, a computer set up with a mic—and all the way in the corner, a keyboard. you almost laughed aloud.

"what is it?" kai asked.

"nothing, nothing, i just...i dunno, i knew you played piano. i just knew it," you chuckled.

"and how could you have known that?"

"maybe i'm psychic."

"or something like that."

you picked up one of the closest plushies to you and threw it at kai's head.

"okay, ouch. i chase after you in the rain, take you back to my apartment, offer you shelter, and this is the thanks i get?"

"will you just go shower—before i throw another one at you," you threatened, giggling. kai rolled his eyes at you once more before ducking into the hall. you settled down on the floor, not wanting to mess up the bed; you were still slightly damp from the storm outside. you leaned against a bedpost, taking in everything around you. it was so...him. it was slightly messy, but warm, cozy—with vibrant bursts of life.

you noticed kai had dropped one of the music sheets in his fervor to clean them. so—glancing at the closed door—you began to read it.

from what you could tell, this part was written for a guitar—which, you felt as though you should've gotten an award for understanding anything about it at all, all that studying did something. you were impressed with kai's dedication; he had drawn everything out himself, including the staffs and markings.

as you were poring over this paper, trying to mentally sound out what the song sounded like, you heard the doorknob turn. you quickly shoved the paper off to the side, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

"your turn," kai called, slicking his wet hair out of his face.

"mhm," you replied, trying not to stare as you grabbed the clothes you brought from your dorm and headed for the bathroom.

•••

you left the shower feeling lighter than before, the world seeming less horrible when you were clean and warm. you took a deep breath in, and felt your heart skip as you realized that you smelled like kai. you had brought clothes, but not your shower things, so you had to settle for his.

as you approached kai's bedroom door, you stopped just before turning the handle. you could hear noise from inside, something that sounded like a guitar.

you knew you probably shouldn't eavesdrop. you knew music was very important to kai, so listening to him compose and practice felt...invasive?

the song was familiar, and after a few moments you realized that it was the song from the paper you had found. you felt a fleeting burst of pride that what you had sounded out in your head hadn't been too obscenely far off, but that was quickly forgotten.

it was a beautiful song, even though you could only hear one instrument's part. it was slower than the other things you had heard him perform. if you strained, you could hear kai humming the beginnings of a melody over his playing—and every once in a while, it would stop, the sound of pencil scratching paper and kai talking to himself replacing it.

eventually, the guilt of eavesdropping won, and you knocked on the door to announce your presence.

"feel any better?" kai asked, moving the guitar and music off of the bed.

"much. the world doesn't suck as bad when you're clean and warm. i'm just very—" your sentence was broken by a yawn,"—sorry, very tired," you finished.

"well, rest here. you're welcome to take a nap," kai said, half-smiling.

you gave him a sleepy, half-lidded smile as you sat down beside him. "i heard you playing when i got out," you confessed eventually.

kai laughed and shook his head, embarrassed.

"ah, i see. hopefully i didn't sound too crazy, i tend to talk to myself."

"only a little crazy," you giggled. a hush fell over the room, the only sound the muffled tapping of the rain on the roof. eventually, you asked in a quiet voice: "what's the one you were playing? what's it called?"

kai looked slightly wary—this was obviously something he didn't talk with a lot of people about. you supposed people are difficult, no matter who you are.

"if you don't want to tell me, then that's okay too—"

"no, no, i was just stunned," kai answered quickly. "it's called 'dreamer'."

"when'd you write it? and...why, if you don't mind me asking?" at that, kai's expression turned a bit more solemn.

"i wrote it in november, when i had an argument with someone in family over wanting to do music as a job. she said it was stupid, pointless—it's not a real job, that i couldn't make anything or go anywhere from it," he said, brows furrowed in distaste at the memory. "this one feels like...i dunno, being trapped between being a kid and an adult—being expected to make something of yourself but wanting to preserve the dreams you had for your life."

you nodded along slowly, knowing the feeling all too well. you'd been told the same thing all your life—that writing would never get anywhere, that it wasn't a stable career, that you couldn't handle it. eventually, you began to believe it.

"will you play it for me?" it was out of your mouth before you could think about it, the sound barely louder than the rain outside. "only if you want to," you added quickly.

kai looked at you, expression a mix of nervous and content, and gave u a small nod and a half-smile before picking up his guitar.

you closed your eyes as he began to play. the world outside was nothing but distant memory, the only things real to you right now were the smell of kai's room, the rain on the windows, and the sound of guitar that floated throughout the room.

kai hummed that melody over his playing again, more confidently this time. you swayed, exhaustion hitting you like a wave as you relaxed for the first time in probably a month. you breathed out a sigh of content, resting against kai's shoulder.

all at once the playing stopped. after a few moments, you opened your eyes and turned to see kai, hands still positioned on the guitar frets, but music long forgotten as your eyes met his. you saw it again, the glimmer in them. you wanted nothing more than to fall into them, fall through their shifting hues and constellations forever.

the silence was tense, all noise drowned out by your own heartbeat as you held kai's gaze. slowly, cautiously, kai closed the space between the two of you, softly brushing his lips to yours before pulling away a bit and locking eyes with you again.

"was that okay?"

"yeah."

"...can i—"

"yeah, yeah."

you closed the gap this time, four and a half months of built-up tension suddenly released as you kissed him, hands slowly sliding up his shoulders to pull him closer to you. kai sighed shakily into the kiss in something almost like relief, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other hand resting lightly on the back of your head—like he was asking for permission to bring you closer still.

memories of the last four months—the first time you saw him play, whispering in classrooms, days spent in the library, nights spent looking up at him admiringly from below a stage, they all swam in your head.

for the first time, kai's hands were inexperienced and hesitant, unsure of where to go and what to do. pulling away from the kiss slightly, you rested your hands on top of his—moving the fingers of one to slide up into your hair, and moving the other to rest between your shoulder blades, where you began to feel the familiar rhythm of his fingers playing their inaudible melodies—slower this time, almost soothingly as your lips met his once more.

you couldn't think of anything else but him—he was all you could see, could hear, could smell; fragments of poems wrote themselves and dissolved as at last the two of you pulled away, the only sound your shaky breathing. you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed, slight smile on your face, and you had the notion that you could've written novels, volumes—all the beautiful prose in the world could not have described the way you felt at that moment with him.

•••

you were grateful for the reprieve from the the scorching may heat as you ducked into the cool, dark building. even though the sun was setting, it was still uncomfortably warm, humidity that spoke of rain to come making the air sticky and heavy.

you smiled slightly at the crowd that had gathered, though the show was still fifteen minutes from starting. kai had garnered a lot of fans in the last few months, and you felt your heart swell with pride at your boyfriend's success.

for the first time in—well, maybe ever, you were at 'divine machine' alone. beomgyu had other plans tonight, and usually that meant a night in for you—but you really wanted to see kai's performance.

you knew the fear was still there. it ebbed and flowed, crescendoed and subsided in your head. you admit it had improved, but you knew it would always be there. it not controlling you was enough, and you took an ironic kind of comfort in knowing that you weren't ever alone, and that you had people to help you—that not everyone was against you.

the lights began to dim, and scattered cheers rippled throughout the audience, growing louder as you saw kai walk on stage and wave at the audience. you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

he'd changed a good bit in the months since you'd met him. his once blue-grey hair was now jet black, and had grown out to his shoulders. half of it was thrown haphazardly in a bun, and his bangs fell into his eyes as he adjusted the mic stand. you noted he didn't have to do it as much anymore—being a regular performer does have its perks.

kai was broader, and somehow looked even taller. you imagined it was the confidence he had built over months of performing. he gave his familiar half-smile at the audience, and you could've fallen in love all over again.

"hi, guys! if you don't know me already, i'm kai. i'm gonna be playing some music for you guys tonight, alright?" as he spoke, he plugged the amp into his guitar, the feedback crackling through the room. "it's mostly originals, but there'll be some covers thrown in too."

you could never get tired of watching kai play. the way he put every fiber of his being into the music—he became it. your eyes settled again on his hands, somehow more confident and at home than they had ever looked. his voice carried through the room, filled it, leaving no space for the troubles or tribulations of whatever was outside the double doors.

you had begun to memorize his setlists, but sometimes he surprised you. after his usual four original songs, kai pulled a chair to the front of the stage, lowering the mic stand and sitting down. he made eye contact with you from across the stage, and you furrowed your brows questioningly. he just winked, gave you a small grin, and began to talk into the mic.

"i've only got two songs left, an original and a cover. this one is called 'dreamer', and i'd be remiss if i didn't give credit where it's due. this song and its lyrics wouldn't exist without someone very important to me, and i want them to know that i wouldn't be here performing if they had not given me the inspiration to." kai gazed at you lovingly from where he sat, and tears sprung to your eyes at the confession.

"the next is not as well-known. i haven't played it before, but i couldn't do 'dreamer' and not play this one, too. it's called 'kissing in cars', by pierce the veil."

you thought back to the memories made over the last nine months as he began to play. from meeting him, to building a friendship, to falling in love, you looked on every moment—even the bad ones—with fondness and gratitude. the two of you had written 'dreamer' together a month after you had gotten together. it started as you bursting into his apartment as soon as it was daylight, having not slept. the beginnings of the lyrics had come to you in the middle of the night, pulling you out of sleep and demanding to be written down. over the course of two weeks, you had helped him create the song in its entirety. you had seen him play it before, but it still brought you close to tears every time.

as 'dreamer' ended and hueningkai began to play the first notes of 'kissing in cars', it hit you just how lucky you were. it wasn't quite luck—or gratitude, or joy, or sadness, or even just love. you couldn't describe the emotion that now overwhelmed you. it coursed through you, the crowd around you melting away. the only thing you could think about was kai. words came together and broke apart, fragments of lyrics and poems born and destroyed as you searched for a way to describe what you were feeling.

you couldn't. as kai moved into the final chorus, just like back in december, you realized that you couldn't describe it. so many have tried, in so many ways, and you knew it would never be enough. you smiled as the song ended, tears slipping from your eyes as you cheered, trying to express this wonderful, exhilarating, indescribable feeling. you knew there were no words, no music, no art, nothing that could capture what you felt at that moment.

and maybe that is what made it so beautiful.

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