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bunji-enthusiast · 18 hours ago

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𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝.

☀︎︎ || With a long awaited reunion, Jayce finally gathers the courage to do something he should’ve done a long time ago.

C/W || nothing nsfw honestly, just lots of fluff, Reader’s gender isn’t implied here, appearance isn’t descriptive, Jayce is just awkward with feelings.

Word Count || 3,433

Note || I feel I should clarify that my whole driving force behind this was inspired by all the jayvik scenes (however you view them lmao), and the song ‘young and beautiful’. Some other things inspired this but mainly these things.

This is also a first I’m posting a fic about a character from Arcane, or arcane at all honestly so some honest criticism for my writing would be appreciated.

That scream repeated over and over in his mind, again and of course – again. Jayce was becoming tired, worn down. His heart began dulling out the environment around him, causing him to look forward, no baggage weighing in on the astral shoulders of his that bore a weight so greatly, for the reality of the supposed great arcane. He was trapped in it for so long.

Red, all he saw was red painting the calluses of his hands. His hands grabbing desperately onto yours, feeling the warmth, the sensation of that beloved warmth leaving your body.

(All he could do was choke out a cry. Silent in the loudness of the world crashing down around the being of you both.)

Another fabric of time, which would have also been his reality. In which you were enemies, Jayce, he wasn’t sure what side to be on. All he knew was to destroy what was necessary, you otherwise wanted to destroy him. Jayce tried to converse with you, yet his growls fell on deaf ears. He was trying to end things, he really was. His want clashed with yours, the need to end things. Jayce just wanted you to not be in pain anymore, and that look in your eyes, the tense stance, pained breathing punishing sharply in the cavity of your chest – that confirmed it for him.

But what was he becoming this time? (Man, or beast?)

He couldn’t tell.

A remaining constant rang true for him each and every time he was chained down in each memory, stone marble cracking in the face of your memory, he was almost beginning to forget what your face looked like. But that scream, it never left him. Your scream was the constant variable of which he experienced each and every time, and you almost always looked at him in fear.

Jayce hated that, he really hated that so much. Looked upon in unease, the sweat on your palms accumulating, and the trepidation rapidly beating in the confines of your ribcage; that heart of yours about ready to jump out, easily because of him.

On that cobblestone floor, cracked by death and echoes of explosion.

He couldn’t tell if you loved him–maybe as a friend–yet either way it was, once. He probably missed it, only looking past you right at others, Viktor, Mel, or even the face of the Hextech Gemstone. The way you were always so kind to greet him even if he didn’t remain a figure of importance in certain situations, you had always made an effort to include not only him, everyone else as well. You brought people together in a way he seldom noticed. But now that he was trapped in the belly of the beast, he thought about it more often.

Jayce truly realized that you had. (But did he ever deserve it? He was beastly toward you often.)

One step after the other, and he realized harshly–being brought back to the now. Something, or someone was far ahead of him. In this void of darkness, and even the occasion of the beautifully loud rainbow swarms, he had never come across someone real. So he began to rush forward, keeping a vice grip on his hammer.

He choked out a shout, feeling his esophagus sore and weak. His body creaked, bones clicking against each other softly, and every which way he twisted himself — he could hear it. Jayce could clearly feel the way his joints had sanded, slowly creaking under the weight of herculean effort to press forward.

The dull ache pressed in his chest, but he couldn't help the youth that springed him forward for a momentary transition in time.

A voice echoes, so strikingly similar to someone he holds dear. And he wonders if that was really the real deal, but he was easily proven wrong once the being speaks; “You must not fail, Jayce.”

Not Fail.

Must, not fail. The accursed organism had repeatedly told him that same mantra over and over again. He was pushed through the time lapse, and forced to relive the gruesome experience of being a human. The poor decisions made, the hope (and the false).

It was easily his driving force as he made it through the dark glowering of magicks that cursed his downfall, and the others around him. Jayce tried not to open his eyes as the sharp pains followed his limbs, intakes of breathing that punished him with every step he took. Yet it was sudden as he felt a ghostly touch impressed into his upper back, causing him to twitch, swerving his head nearly off the hinges as he looked to see whom the cause of the touch was. The crinkles beneath his eyes expressed clear frustration, as he was tricked once again. Jayce cursed himself mentally as he trudged forward, the onslaught of surprises resuming once again when the light gleamed – jarring as can be for a low fluorescent tone. He recapitulated his position, standing firmly into whatever ground there was irrespective of the pain. Jayce’s hands were worn with exhaustion, each and every ache screaming at him to fall down, rest.

Imaginably he could, but he dared not too. (He couldn’t rest, not again.)

This was his last resort, he was not capable of letting it happen again. He needed to make sure nobody died, he needed to make sure it wasn’t out of bleeding, feeling cold. He knew it far too well, and he was going to make sure he was doing everything in his power to–

Oh wow.

It was painful–painless–for a few moments, leaving him disoriented as he grunted, trying to accumulate to his new surroundings. He wondered where he was now, what would it show him next?

He blinks for a few moments, struggling to stand up as he supports his weight on the hammer. Inevitably cracking his neck, easing himself of the sore pains that riddled his neck and even the rest of his body. His leg was where it had really hurt for the matter, but no reason to worry, he was ready for whatever was gonna come next.

“Jayce?” A gasp escapes his throat, ebbing it raw, his eyes blurring into clearness for the first time. He furrows his brow, attempting to get a clearer look at the source. The man was worn from battle–he tenses, fully rising to his height.

(He heard a voice, and it was yours. Not an illusion, not a past memory. It was really that same cadence that not even the arcane could replicate.)

His throat bobs, churning with a burn that reminds him that he really is here. Where he had first disappeared in the first place, the accursed base of the HexGate facility. Jayce really, really had begun to hate HexTech. His eyes briefly scorn the intricate designs, almost weaved like the stories in tapestries. The stories were wrong, they always had been wrong. He should’ve listened to Heimerdinger, he should've listened to the professor.

What was he doing?

Oh god.

“Is that you?” His eyes flicker back over to the one other person in the room, right in front of him. Jayce attempted—couldn’t—to look you in the eye, it was a difficult thing to do. His brows furrowed, a headache came to the forefront of his pain, and he closed his eyes. He heaved a heavy sigh–he was ashamed.

Killing came so easy to him now, so why is this now any different?

Deciding to test the waters he quietly muttered your name, followed by a gentle greeting; “Hey.” Jayce murmurs, his bottom lip quivered for a moment.

You could see how cracked his lips were, and it made you almost worry for him. Of course, you should be. But you didn’t want to rush him, the way he had carried himself, you could see he was still far too tense and on edge. Both of you were thinking the same, worried about the other, still wanting to embrace each other–even so used to the touches of danger. It was in consideration, that made it all too painfully slow in this reunion. You nodded your head, taking a step forward.

“You’ve been gone quite awhile,” You verbalized with a tilt of your head, gesturing about the length of his absence. “I was… worried.” He gave pause to your comment, a slight widening of his eyes as he lifted his gaze, albeit shortly enough to reach your torso. You looked different from what he remembered, just right there was enough to make him realize the passage of time.

“How–I, how long have I been gone?” He internally winced at the way his voice sounded, his throat felt so sore. Jayce wasn’t sure himself, he felt it best to ask you. He understood that time had passed extensively, not how much for the matter, he felt it passing entirely differently during his time within the core of the arcane–whatever its physical being is. Something entirely reminiscent of a curse. He despised it so much for leaving you and the others without warning. But yet again, he hadn’t taken a step back to think about his words and actions, and how easily he could hurt others. Jayce knew better than that now, atleast.

He could almost feel the hesitation radiating off of you, as if answering would be the end of all things. Jayce heaved a mournful breath, letting his eyes close.

(Maybe it would, he wasn’t sure. Jayce didn’t want you to be afraid of him, is all.)

The room was cold, cold as the winter storm of the day he crossed paths with the arcane, he had almost forgotten that. Yet it was useless when he felt the warmth of something inexplicable touching his cheek, leathery he must feel. Jayce felt the way his skin hardened, the way his body tenses when he’s touched. But–that wasn’t the case here, no.

A small gentle pad of the thumb swiped over the area, leaving him to open his eyes – inextricably locking gazes. Jayce was left surprised, almost recoiling for a split-moment. You kept a firm hold, your gaze all but gentle. Which was the last thing he expected, he searched any inch of your expression, and not once did your eyes falter in that interval of time. Jayce was tempted to stray away from your touch, every nerve in his being telling him to do so. However, it was something else that let him stay in the same position. That same stance, and he was unable to run away from it.

Jayce grimaced, holding his head. Another episode, what he’s seen. Far too much of it, you concluded.

He could see flashes of something unholy, far too close to the sun, or perhaps far too close to the moon. Jayce could see the debilitating deflections of creatures, something supernatural, the coarseness of rainbows. It was the way his lungs squeezed upon itself, twisting in a macabre manner of gestations that left him breathless for a meager few moments. You simply held him through it, and gently murmured, drawing his attention to you once more. Whatever he saw, it was the countless hours of death, it was inescapable. Blurry had it appeared to be once over, as he never wanted to recall the things he experienced. The last thing that had never been blocked out were those memories of you, dying over and over again, especially by his hands. It was in repetition that he blacked out so many times over, constantly finding himself in new arenas. Having to raise his hammer against someone else, seeing their blood splatter against the coldstone of the ground. Jayce wasn’t sure how he hadn’t–broken.

It always felt far too real to him, he was sure it had. The heavy heart that corones his emotions, the way he acts. Probably in that alone that he had caused the deaths of so many innocents so many times, even for a different fabric in the space-fold of time, it still happened. Jayce didn’t want that to happen to you–not again–to anyone else.

With the impossible decisions, and the road he had walked so far. There was nothing short of a future, or a dream for him anymore. He had to fight, even if that meant physically. Jayce knew there was something different in this life of his, he just wished this wasn’t the truth of it. He grieved it even, but he couldn’t truly be given time to process that. Life does not slow down for anyone, not even you, and not even him. One is only human after all, and you sure as hell make the most of it, the best you can, even if people may hate you for the smallest thing. It is innately the most human thing that truly makes each and every person kind, despite their supposed repugnant nature that makes mankind so infamous.

“Jayce,” You murmured, a tone so soft, he didn’t deserve it. “Can you please look at me?” Almost to your whims, he felt so commanded. A rarity in such matters, that he didn’t mind it. Such a simple action, and it seemed so difficult though. But he tried, and succeeded.

For the second time now, he locked eyes with you. His gaze was colored by bashfulness, leaving you to laugh. A tender touch, revering the inches of encroaching warmth that crawled back into his skin bit by bit. You breathed a puff of air, noting the cold atmosphere.

‘He must’ve been cold before he came back out.’ You scrutinized the details for a moment, and considered how much time he spent. How long he went without proper warmth, the lack of temperature. Whatever or whomever it may have been that was his captor, you were glad he was finally freed for good, hopefully. You just were relieved that you could finally just see him, and know that he’s truly there (instead of just a delusion). Even if he appeared differently, he was still here.

“I really did miss you.” You mentioned, seeing the flicker of surprise, surmising the life that brought back the color in his eyes. Less dull now, and far more colorful within the beautiful amber–almost had you wishing you could stay trapped in it forever. Not forever maybe, that would mean you’d never be face to face with him directly, like now, where you stood stronger than ever. As you were more than willing to be a pillar of support for the broken man, who you guess appeared to see so much, it nearly broke his mind. For the brief moment of pause, you could see his jaw tighten, as if he was contemplating something, but wary to air out the thought.

He held the expectation that you would’ve been more fearful of him. Or at the very least angry, god knows he fully deserves that.

Your brows tighten, almost wincing at the knot in your forehead. You’ve done that especially way too much lately, even since Jayce’s sudden disappearance. It was a question of your own, nothing short of anger, all it really was confusion.

Jayce seemed to notice this, drawing you out of your short-lived predicament; “You… alright?” He muttered, somewhat hesitant to draw his hand over yours. He didn’t see himself deserving enough for that yet, not until he knew that it was by all rights okay with you. Only then you nodded to reassure him, biting the inside of your cheek as the moment passed.

Finally garnering the courage to the breadth of your chest, “How… or why have you been gone so long?” Jayce simply looks at you with a half-unreadable expression, as if he had expected this question. One way or another, he was always going to be faced with such a question. After all, he had been trapped inside the palace of the arcane, a presumably long life-time of experiences; enough to age him noticeably.

“I'll explain it,” He paused, a waver in his tone. “In time.” Jayce’s reluctance was more than easy to notice, so you nodded, not fully satisfied with the answer. But you had to wait for answers another time, there were reasonably far more important things to deal with right now. Whatever that may be considered.

So you opted for a hug (entirely and completely out of the blue).

The affectionate gesture, which could mean many things, surprised him. He didn’t count for this happening—it made his knees buckle, the weight hounding you to fall with him. Even with the vice grip he previously held on the handle. He let go of his hammer, wanting and using both arms to just utterly hug you back with the whole of his heart, and he was fulfilled. Nose buried in the crook of your neck, it was filled with your scent. Your own hold on him didn’t vacillate at all–which in retrospect–it gave way to a level of solace he never felt before.

He tightened his hold on you, a silent way of giving thanks, if nothing else. You were glad, happy even that he accepted your inhibited sudden gesture.

You leaned back, slowly but surely, just to check that Jayce wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a failure however [as good as you were at reading expressions], there was naught a hint of it at all. You tilted your head, eliciting a soft laugh from the man.

‘Mission successful!’

His soft laughter elicited a pavlovian response from you, leaving you to move your hands, cradling his face with both hands once again. Anything and everything seemed to fall short around you, for the long while you began to realize, lord you were far from attached to the thought however. His brows furrowed with a small grin, still finding it somewhat amusing with your subtle acts of nature. In spite of what preceded, the decedent time of passing made him begin to freeze.

Color began creeping up against the patches of his skin that crawled from the beginning of his mandible, nape of the neck, and now up to the cheek bones. Expression faltering. (“Hey, uh…”) He tried to muster, but despite that, it fell on deaf ears. Your gaze made him hot, and he was always on the fence on whether or not how he should react. Jayce wasn’t sure how to handle it really, cause you look at him as if he was all that was there in the room. The spark of motivation behind your learning, or even the nights and transitions of time where you listen to him talk about what makes him so inspired. Of course, he always made the effort to do the same, but it had made him wonder if you felt so similarly.

Yet, when he allowed his overthinking to fester, never bringing it up, he was afraid and just simply decided to not ask about it at all. Jayce was always a bit afraid about these things, but with what he's been through, he fears this may be the first and last time he’s allowed to see you.

With that being his driving force, how his heart raced, it gave him a burst of confidence. Jayce lowered his left hand to your hip, the other to holding your face. His eyes were soft, brows raised as if he were asking. It was first and foremost, but his heart continued to beat right up against the cavity of his chest.

There was a flicker of astonishment gleaming in your eyes, but it slowly disappeared, as if you ascertained what he was wanting, and frankly you found it sweet that he had asked for your permission. Nonetheless, you were more than delighted to oblige with his request.

Warmth blossomed exuberant in his chest, as if fireworks were being set off. The sensation it ignited in him was soulful. A first tentative brush, then a second time, more sure than ever now. Jayce’s breathing almost labored when he pulled back, and he could figure the same for you. In a way, it was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders by such a simple act of love. Even with the moments passing, the two of you leaned against one another, relishing in the feeling that heightened your tension.

Though it did wear off quickly enough.

Jayce watched with patience of a thousand men as you leaned back, re-adjusting yourself as you spoke. And wasn’t it ever the truth.

“If you’ve done that earlier, then i probably wouldn’t even be here right now.” You remarked, causing him to laugh quietly.

(No shit.)

He should’ve done this sooner.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x gender neutral reader #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce x reader

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hannie-dul-set · 3 days ago

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줄다리기 / JULDARIGI — one.

SYNOPSIS. the moment you step foot into the neighborhood you’d sought to forget, you find yourself caught in a seven sided tug-of-war with the longings of the past, and the restraints of the present.

FEATURING. seventeen’s yoon jeonghan, nct’s na jaemin, txt’s choi soobin and choi beomgyu, enhypen’s park sunghoon, zb1’s shen quanrui, bnd’s han dongmin. GENRES. drama, suggestive, psychological, yandere reverse harem (yeehaw!!!), college! au, richkid! au. CHAPTER WARNINGS. swearing, arson, child abandonment, obsessive and possessive behavior, ominous vibes overall, but things are still pretty mellow at this point BWAHAHAH.

WORD COUNT. 13.6k TAGLIST. open.

NOTE. my insanity begins. this reads like a very bad soap opera-ish kdrama with all the cliches you can think of, including terrible male leads HAHHAHAHAHAHA. nothing major happens in the chapter, but a lot of teensy tiny hints are being dropped. would love to hear everyone's dissections of my collection of messed up characters. enjoy!!!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

THERE IS AN AQUARIUM IN THE KIM HOUSEHOLD.

A large, rectangular box in the space where the hallway and living room meet, filled with rocks, driftwood, plants and a multitude of colorful fish, large and small, all drenched in a glaze of cerulean blue. One of the angelfish swims right in front of you, following the direction of your eyes as you scan it from left to right, almost knowing that you’re looking at it by how it slows down the moment it enters your field of vision— watching you in return with its blank stare.

Seeing this reminds you that your home used to have three. One in the foyer. One in the dining room. One on the second floor landing where you used to play house with your friends. You also remember that you had a koi pond in the garden, of which you’d visit every morning and had once nearly fallen into after leaning over the bridge railing too far after trying (and failing) to count the number of fishes swimming and swirling around.

But that was ten years ago. Maybe nine. Now, the only fish you count is the supply of dried pollock you keep in the store for the bugeoguk on the menu.

“Hey, it’s time to bring the deserts in. Quit spacing out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grunt, spinning your heels back into the direction of the kitchen. You pull the towel loosely hanging from your right shoulder, following the footsteps of your co-worker into the hallway. It’s funny how things can just suddenly go wrong— how you can have three aquariums and a koi pond and have it all disintegrate into thin air right before your very eyes.

You walk into the large kitchen, a cart full of sweets and cakes and pastries waiting for you to push out into the backyard dining area of the house. The warm lights lining the wraparound porch are reminding you of what you used to have. The sounds of champagne glasses and cutlery clicking and clattering feel like distant but familiar reveries that leave a bitter taste on your throat.

“Oh, I’ve been dying for something sweet.”

Wordlessly, you set the dishes from your cart onto the table, careful to not brush against the handful of people dining on the table. You’re careful. You’re so, so careful yet you can still feel the stares drilling into your skull while you keep your head down, the hushed yet audible whispers that assault your ears the moment you finish serving one person before moving onto the next. It’s more annoying than anything, really. But you can’t let that expression show through your face.

You make the mistake of locking eyes with one of the members of the dinner, however. It’s brief— no longer than three seconds. Yet three seconds was enough for him to recognize you, and for you to detect his recognition.

There’s nothing but shock and surprise in those eyes of his.

All the deserts have been served. You retreat back into the kitchen with the now empty cart and thank the heavens that you don’t have to come back out there tonight.

“Whew. Rich people chatter way too much.”

You laugh, looking over at Soonyoung who lets out a tired sigh the moment the kitchen doors close. “Work’s not over. Time to clean up.”

Soonyoung and you met just earlier, yet you’re already trying to trip each other over while carrying stacks of dishes to the washing station. He’s a pretty easy going guy. You two would be good friends, but your shift is nearly done. You don’t have anyone to serve here in the kitchen so you two can mess around as much as you want. “Good work today,” says your catering manager after handing you your salary. “I was unsure when I saw you walk into the kitchen today, but you seem pretty experienced with this line of work.”

You smile, blindly counting the number of bills in your hands. “I’ve been waitressing for a long time.” A hundred-fifty thousand. Right on the dot.

He mirrors your expression. “How about working with us permanently?”

“Ah, sorry. I don’t think my schedule can manage. Call me if ever you need another pair of hands to cover for you, though.”

That was the end of today’s job. One of your friends, Seungkwan, called you earlier saying that he had a part-time opportunity for you— working as a server for a catered private family dinner in Pyeongchang-dong, Westwind Crossings. It’s bound to pay well, and you weren’t wrong after earning much more than your daily wage at the diner.

You pack up your things, leaving your apron behind before sneaking off to one of the servant hallways that the head maid showed you earlier. The Kim’s don’t want to see their workers in the same space as they regularly cross, apparently. You grunt and pick up your pace, only to get caught in the mess of corners and turns. Wait, did you have to go left this time or right? Gosh, big houses are so confusing. This is just making you appreciate your cramped home in downtown Seoul even more.

Biting the bullet, you turn left, and what emerges from the other end of the hall isn’t the exit at the side of their house, but what appears to be a lounge area. It had been roughly thirty minutes since the dinner ended. A knot begins to form in your temples the moment three pairs of eyes land on yours.

Shit. This is gonna get annoying. You quickly snap your head back and start to book it, but your feet stutter at the first step.

Your name is called out. God damn it, you really didn’t want to deal with this.

“I knew it!” one of them exclaims. Kim Haera. The eldest daughter of the household and, well, an acquaintance of yours. Former acquaintance really, since the last time you’ve seen here was eight fucking years ago. “Holy shit, the rumors are true! I didn’t want to believe it, but here you are!”

You bite your tongue. You ignore her and start walking again, but you hear a pair of footsteps quickly catching up to your direction and you’re pulled back by the arm, eyes widening, now face-to-face with Kim Haera’s bright and curious eyes. There’s a smile on her face. A big one, like she can’t contain it. “Hey, don’t just run off. We haven’t seen each other in years. C’mon, let’s talk and catch up. I’m dying to know what happened to you.”

From what you can remember, Kim Haera has always been a bit of a bitch. Looks like the years failed to fix her nasty personality.

Haera tugs you out of the tunnel, inside the lounge with three people you’d prefer not be around. “Guys! Do you remember her? Stupid question, of fucking course you do, we used to be over at their place all the time.” Then she abruptly stops, causing you to stumble a little. She turns to you, a snide expression of her face, and the knot in your head tightens. “Well. That was until things went to shit with your family eight years ago, right?”

Your jaw clenches. You manage your breaths. You remember her being awful, but it was never directed to you because she always used to follow you around. To talk shit about everyone in your circle with you listening to make herself seem better than everyone else. Because it was your home that everyone used to frequent. Because it was your family that used to host these dinners, these gatherings, these whatevers.

No, you don’t envy the house you’re standing in right now. You’re just mad that you can’t say anything back because you still want the fucking catering company to give you a call in the future.

“Well, say something.”

“Noona,” a voice interrupts. You look and see it’s Kim Donghyun, Haera’s younger brother. The other kid, Lee Sanghyeok, looks like he isn’t even listening to what’s going on— which you’d have preferred over whatever the fuck Haera is doing. “I think that’s enough.”

Haera ignores him. “Seriously, what happened to you?” she presses on, and you stifle a sigh.

“Mrs Kim disallowed any of the catering staff to enter unauthorized areas and to talk to any of the guests and members of the household,” you finally say with a tight-lipped smile. “I apologize for the intrusion. If you’d excuse me—”

“I’m not done talking to you.”

You’re yanked back, a strain in your shoulder socket as you stifle down a swear. She looks down on the sleeve she wrinkled— the server uniform you’d been wearing all afternoon to evening, stained-white in color. She breathes out a snicker.

“You might’ve been used to looking down on me when we were kids, but it looks like things are different now.” Your head hurts. It’s like maturity never befriended her these past ten years. “Now, tell me. Did you just choose to move after your house burnt down? Or did the Choi’s really screw you guys over?”

“Noona!”

“You just disappeared into thin air after that happened,” she remarks. “The least that you could’ve done was give me a heads up that you’re coming back to work here. I could’ve handed you a pretty handsome tip while you were serving the table.”

There’s only so much shit you can take. One more jab, and your patience might just run out. But at that moment, you hear the door to the lounge slide open. Your heart races in panic, fearing it might be one of their parents, but it isn’t.

You’re not sure if the person that just walked it would make this situation better or worse.

“Haera.”

It’s the second time you’ve made eye contact with Na Jaemin tonight. The first two times after ten years and seeing him all grown up is still a huge slap in the face. His hair is bleached, almost white, which is a surprise knowing how uptight his parents are. He called out Haera’s name, but you can tell he’s looking at you. He’s looking at you with the same expression that he wore at the dining room table earlier— shock, surprise— pleasant or otherwise and you can’t really tell, but he quickly brushes it off to the side when Haera lets out a gasp and runs up to him.

“Oppa!” she exclaims. “What are you doing here? Did you come to see me?”

Na Jaemin simply smiles. “Mr and Mrs Heo are about to make their leave. Your parents want you to see them out.”

Seeing the disappointment in her face is almost funny. Haera lets out a groan. “Donghyun, let’s go.” And her brother scuttles along with her too, giving you a single hesitant glance before turning away. This is your cue to leave. You quickly turn again, facing the open mouth of the servant hallway just as you hear Na Jaemin’s voice echo in the room again.

“Sanghyeok, you too. Jiyeon refuses to leave until she gets to see you.”

Huh. You don’t remember seeing Heo Jiyeon at the dinner table. You want to push forward, yet again you feel a familiar stare drilling into the back of your skull, so you take a peek over your shoulder. You see Lee Sanghyeok let out a tired grunt and forces himself off the couch, muttering a thank you to Jaemin before leaving the room as well, but the latter stays.

He’s looking at you again. You can practically see the cloud of words floating above his head as tries to come up with an appropriate thing to say. It’s not like he can ignore you at this point. He’s been looking at you too much for it to slither under your notice.

Then, after much thought, he finally comes up with something to say.

“Do you know the way out?”

You pause. That’s interesting. No re-introductions. No musings of how he didn’t expect to ever see you again. No gripe about how low you’ve plummeted since he last saw you.

“No,” you reply. He makes his first steps towards you— past you, leading you through the intricacies of the servant tunnels, and before you know it, you’re outside just in the time for the sun to set, and Na Jaemin is looking at you again like he has so many things to say, but decides to say just one thing instead.

“I’ll walk you out the subdivision.”

Once more, you pause and think. What does he want? Is he stretching his time with you to get you to say something? To dig into why you left this neighborhood and how you ended up back here ten years later as a different person, just like Kim Haera? You can’t get a read on him. You never could, not ever since you were kids and first introduced to each other. As someone you should get close to. As someone who’d be a good match for you.

He’s still the same as ever. His face is still pretty. And he still stands an arms length away from you— never too close, and never too far.

“Na Jaemin,” you start. “I can still remember the directions and streets and twists and turns of Westwind. You don’t have to. It’s fine.” You finish it off with a smile on your face, albeit somewhat forced.

“It’s getting late,” he responds, practiced and polite, and you almost laugh. “I should at least make sure you make it your ride home.”

“Well. Alright,” you finally say, and like earlier he brushes past you, a little ahead of you, and you start walking in rhythm down the familiar streets of the neighborhood. Much to your surprise, he’s quiet. It’s been a few minutes since the Kim’s house has gone out of sight, but he hasn’t started prying yet. Then again, you don’t remember him being as much of a snob as Haera. In your memories, Na Jaemin has always been quiet and polite— smiling when he needs to, talking when he needs to. He never does anything more than necessary.

At least to you. He’s a little different when he’s around his friends. With the Lees, who live just a block away. He smiles more with them than when he does with you. Then again, you two aren’t exactly friends nor strangers, but it isn’t fair to just call him an acquaintance.

Na Jaemin notices you drilling holes into the side of his face and stops walking. It’s payback from earlier. He’s waiting for you to talk. So you do.

“Aren’t you gonna ask?”

This catches him off guard. Your mouth twitches. It’s barely a smile.

“Like, oh my god, what the hell happened to you, you used to be the most privileged rich kid in the neighborhood— why are you serving tables and letting Kim Haera spit on your face?” you rattle on, taking one step and more and this time it’s you taking the lead ahead. You spin your heels, walking backwards with your hands tucked behind your back. Na Jaemin looks like he’d been exposed. You laugh and turn back to face the right side of the road. “I know you’re curious. You’ve been looking at me like you want to pick apart my brain since I first intruded into your dinner.”

“Would you answer?” he says gruffly, trying to match your pace, but he can’t quite keep up with the bounce in your step as you near the exit of the subdivision.

“If you ask nicely,” you hum. “Considering our history, I think you deserve to know. More than Kim Haera at the very least.”

This prompts a huff from him, close to a laugh. You smile. “I remember the fire that occurred, and you and your family left the neighborhood not long after,” Na Jaemin finally starts. “I thought you’d just left while waiting for your house to get repaired, but a few weeks passed and your home was still in the same state.”

You’ve reached the outside of the neighborhood, past the toll gate, and much to your surprise, Na Jaemin is still walking with you. He’s managed to overtake your lead, headed towards the bus stop.

“When I asked my parents about what happened, the only thing they said is that you had a stroke of bad luck and I shouldn’t concern myself with you again.” Na Jaemin turns around, stopping underneath the waiting shed outside the premises of Westwind. You remember being in this same spot with him a few times before, but the shed is smaller than you remember. Or maybe you two just grew taller.

He’s still bad at asking for what he wants though. He’s looking at you patiently to answer his unasked question. You relent, looking up at the slowly darkening sky.

“A stroke of bad luck seems just about right.”

Your mother comes from old money, and your father not quite. He was upper-middle class at most, and her family didn’t approve of him. They were already pressuring her to break up while they were still dating, and eloping with him didn’t elicit a great reaction. She got cut off. At the very least she kept the house you, your parents, and grandfather had formerly lived in under her name, as well as a trust fund that still ensured her a more than comfortable rest of her life. Your father didn’t slack either. He managed to build himself up with two of his friends by investing and starting a finance firm.

It didn’t take long for your family’s wealth to grow, and by the time you were born, you were already handed a silver spoon.

But things go wrong just as quickly as they go right.

Your grandfather had a gambling addiction. The only reason why you found out about it is the yelling you’d overheard from your dad’s study every week. That enough wouldn’t be enough to squander off all your wealth, but it was the first domino that caused everything to collapse. Not long after, your father got betrayed by his business partners. You didn’t know the details since you were only fourteen when it happened, but you knew well enough to understand that your picture perfect life had started to crumple.

The dinners your family hosts every week suddenly stopped. Your household had to retrench, downsizing the number of workers, maids, gardeners, cooks, drivers and you started catching the bus to and from school.

Perhaps some of the employees that got laid off grew resentful. Their resentment came in the form of being woken up in the middle of the night by your mother. You still vividly remember every beat of the scene— the warm and arid air, the smell of something suffocating, and the unusual bursts of light pouring from the outside. From the garden. And then your mother practically dragged your small frame out of the room, down the stairs, until you finally reached outside where you saw black smoke replacing the clouds in the sky, and the sound of sirens quickly growing louder and louder by the second.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.” You and Na Jaemin are now sitting on the bench under the shed, waiting for your bus to arrive. “I guess coming back to this neighborhood again reminded me that I’m still bitter.”

You flit your eyes up, trying to gauge Jaemin’s expression, but of course he’s still impossible to read. Is it sympathy? Pity? Derision? You have no idea.

“Haera was dying to find out how my life got royally screwed over,” you let out with a stretch. The aftermath of working for five hours is starting to hit. You’re gonna have a cold shower once you get home. “Feel free to spread the news like wildfire because I’m pretty sure the other kids want to know, too. Might as well make a novel out of it.”

The headlights of a bus come into sight. It stops briefly on the side of the road before you. Then it passes by with the hum of the engine.

“What makes you think I’m the type to gossip?” he asks. You don’t even catch a single ounce of offense from his tone.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “We never really talked much.”

Jaemin releases something short of a laugh. “That’s true.” Then a pause. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Why would you be? It’s not like it’s your or your family’s fault,” you say. “I’m pretty happy with my life right now. Got into uni with a full-ride scholarship and I just made a hundred thousand in one day. I’m pretty sure a nice and warm meal is waiting for me when I get home too.”

He hums. “Where do you study?”

“KSU,” you reply. “You? I remember you’ve been preparing for med school since elementary, so I’m guessing NCIT?”

“You seem to know your universities well,” he quips. “And I’m surprised you even know of that.”

“Of course. You were practically my de facto fiancee from when I was nine to twelve. My parents make it a habit to advertise you over dinner without fail. Everything I know about you is against my will, Jaemin.” You joke, laughing. The corners of Na Jaemin’s mouth twitches upwards too, a little flustered when his head turns down a little, and you can see the length of his eyelashes hovering above his cheeks. “To be honest, I really thought we’d end up getting married with how much our families kept pushing us together. But I guess it’s another funny swing of fate that my circumstances made sure that neither of us would fall into an arranged marriage.”

It’s official. You simply aren’t equipped to understand the makings of Na Jaemin’s head based solely on his expressions. He’s stopped looking down, eyes directed at you with a gravity that nearly overwhelms and you want to ask what? Why are you looking at me like that? What exactly do you want to know and why can’t you just say it?

Still, you keep those questions locked in your throat because another bus approaches, and the sky is now more black than orange. Maybe you shouldn’t let this one pass by.

“Anyway, thanks for walking me out and waiting with me, Jaemin,” you say as you ready to stand up, dusting your trousers and your already stained white shirt. “And thanks for, you know, being a decent fucking person.”

The bus comes closer. You take this as a signal to leave and bid this neighborhood goodbye— maybe for good this time— but right before the bus makes a screeching halt before the waiting shed, your steps stagger from the sound of Na Jaemin’s voice behind you.

“Do you miss it?”

You pause. You look over your shoulder and see Jaemin standing underneath the shade. The streetlight nearby flickers on. It illuminates the right side of his face.

“The life you had before,” he says. “Do you want to get it back?”

Regardless, it’s still impossible to decipher his expression, to figure out what he wants and what he means.

You hear the bus pull over, the sound of the door exhausting open. You give Na Jaemin one last smile before turning around, getting on the vehicle without a reply, and he doesn’t stop you to hear one.

“Shhh! Your footsteps are too loud, you’re gonna wake her up!”

“Isn’t that what we’re here for? To wake her up?”

“Yeah, but that’s no fun. Let’s scare her awake.”

“Uh, no thanks? I don’t want to get punched in the face.”

“Just let her sleep, she must be tired.”

“Booo, you’re two are so lame.”

For a second, you thought your friends had managed to pry themselves into your dreams, disturbing your sleep in the most inelegant way possible. Then you realize that their voices sound a lot more vivid, a lot closer than you thought. Like they’re in the room with you right now. So when you groan and peel your eyes open— indeed, lo and behold, here they are: Jay Park, Jake Shim, and Park Sunghoon in the flesh.

Jake is frozen and hovering above you like he’d just been caught committing theft. Sunghoon is trying to pull him away from your mattress. Jay is by the doorstep, pretending like he has nothing to do with this and immediately spinning his body one-eighty the moment you meet eyes.

You squint at Jake. He flinches back. “O—oh, you’re awake, haha.”

Sunghoon successfully shovels Jake away. “Did we wake you?” he asks, replacing the latter’s spot on the left side of your mattress.

There’s a guilty look on his face. You make it worse when you respond with, “What do you think?” propping yourself up with your elbows because you don’t particularly enjoy being looked down on.

“Hey, your mom gave us permission to drag you out of bed,” interjects Jake. “Get up and get ready. Today’s the opening festival. You promised you’d attend this year!”

“I promised to watch Hee perform,” you correct. “He’s not gonna be on stage until the afternoon. Let me enjoy my morning off, you home invaders.” That was your ending statement before burying yourself into your pillow again, turning your back to the boys and then you hear Jay’s footsteps finally joining in the party.

“It is the afternoon,” he informs.

You jolt. Jay is now squatting at the foot of your mattress. “Shit, really?”

He snorts. “Go check.”

Your hands scramble for your phone that you remember you left charging on the floor nearby somewhere. Sunghoon finds it before you. He pulls it out of the socket and hands it to you, and you confirm that it is in fact the afternoon. One-thirty, to be exact. You mutter a swear. “Fuck.” You nearly trip over your blanket when you stumble out of bed, promptly banishing the three of them to the downstairs diner while you get ready.

“Mom, you should make these idiots pay for their meals.”

That’s the first thing you announce while running down the stairs, knowing full well that those three are already helping themselves to some gukbap and kimchi, and they don’t disappoint. Jake pops his head up from the table, cheeks puffed up and beckoning you over like this isn’t your family’s own restaurant. “Come get yours, dear,” your mother calls out from the kitchen, emerging with your own bowl of rice soup, and you quickly pad over to take it from her.

“Seriously,” you start, moving over to the table, slotting yourself into the empty seat next to Sunghoon and in front of Jay. “We can open up a new branch if you total the amount they’ve been leeching for the past two years.”

You set your meal down with a clatter. Park Sunghoon stops eating at your declaration. His spoon hovers five centimeters away from his open mouth.

“Hoon, I’m joking.” Your hand lands on his wrist. You lead the spoon into his mouth and shut his jaw. “Eat up. You look like you’ve lost weight recently.”

“I only eat well when I’m eating auntie’s food,” he retorts, muffled, and takes another spoonful for himself. Sneaky guy probably noticed that your mom was coming over to earn a few points from her. Which works, because your mom looks extra happy when she presses her hands on the edge of the table, watching the four of you eat with eyes glazed in satisfaction. Your eyes flit down to her hands— rough and calloused with a band aid and a wedding ring wrapped on the fourth finger.

“You know, you kids are welcome here any time, right?”

It’s been three weeks since your last visit to Westwind. At the Kim’s. But Na Jaemin’s parting question seems to find its way into your mind whenever you let your thoughts drift for too long.

Do you miss it?

This bite is suddenly hard to swallow. You set your chopsticks down with a clang.

“Where’s dad?”

Your mom looks over to you, cutting her conversation short with Jay. “Making a delivery,” she replies. A huff escapes your throat.

“Don’t you think it’s about time we hire part-timers?”

Jake sees this as an opportunity. You can literally see his eyes sparkle. “Auntie, hire me!” The table shakes. “Ow!” You snap your head to Sunghoon, who’s feigning innocence with his meal while Jake gives him the what gives? face.

“We can still manage the store by ourselves,” your mother argues. “And Jungwoo and Jeonghan come by sometimes to help when you’re not around.”

“You should call us if you need any extra hand, auntie,” Sunghoon says. “Our schedule is pretty lenient this semester.”

“What do you mean lenient, we have four major—”

Sunghoon also cuts Jay off with an under the table kick and a smile. You mom laughs. “I appreciate the sentiments, but you kids should focus on your studies.”

You open your mouth to retort, but she ultimately shushes you and says she needs to organize some things in the kitchen. “Hey, finish your food,” Jay scolds, pushing your bowl closer to you. You stick your tongue out and pick up your spoon again. “I think we need to head out in fifteen minutes. Jungwon texted that the field is already getting crowded.”

The four of you finish your meals. Gukbap has been your diner’s specialty ever since your mom mastered how to cook it after countless trial and errors. It wasn’t easy adjusting from having ready to eat meals the moment you sit on the dinner table to having to curate your own menu just to make a living. After the losses your family incurred, you had to scrape up whatever you had left and moved to an affordable place in downtown Seoul. Both your parents had to start working, and it was your grandfather that always greeted you the moment you returned home from school.

However, when he passed away, the three of you moved to a new place that’s smaller and bigger at the same time— a two-storey building that you rented out to serve as a diner downstairs and a home at the top. You exit through the fogged doors with the sound of a jingle, stopping to turn around and follow the building’s height. It’s not too tall, wedged between two other rental spaces. A hair salon on the right. A computer shop on the left.

The life you had before.

Once again, Na Jaemin’s voice echoes in your ears.

Do you want to get it back?

You see the blur of Sunghoon’s mouth move, but you don’t hear anything. You blink. A car zooms by. A flock of birds flutter away. You clear your throat, refocusing your gaze on your friend. “Sorry, what was that?”

His eyes are fixed on you, brows slightly knitted. “Nothing.” he mumbles. “You have something on your face.”

You flinch a little when Sunghoon suddenly brings a hand to your cheekbone, eyelids blinking rapidly in surprise as his thumb and index finger brush lightly against your skin, revealing a barely visible eyelash strand when he pulls his hand away. There’s a subtle smile on his face when his gaze lingers on the stray lash before glancing at you.

“Make a wish,” he jokes. You scoff, rolling your eyes with a grin.

“Hey, put the PDA on hold. We have a bus to catch,” Jay interrupts. Sunghoon clicks his tongue in response. He flicks the lash away and stuffs his free hand into a jacket pocket, extending his other arm behind you to hook around your shoulders, and your feet skid against the ground as you bump into him.

It’s nothing that catches you off guard nor surprised. The four of you are walking to the bus stop, yet it isn’t just the four of you occupying the neighborhood. It’s early afternoon. The sidewalks and streets are busy. Park Sunghoon has the habit of pulling you as close to him as physically possible. A middle-aged man in a suit approaches from the opposite direction, you in his line of collision, and Sunghoon quickly steps to the side and pulls you closer to evade the fast approaching businessman, who was way too caught up in his call over the phone to pay you any mind.

The gesture is impossible not to notice— Jake and Jay included, but they never say anything about it. Neither do you. Neither does Sunghoon.

Your bus arrives. All seats are taken. Any space you once had to breathe diminishes to nonexistence as you try and balance yourself amidst the standing crowd. “You okay?” Sunghoon’s voice is a mere whisper reserved for you to hear. You’re standing in front of him, arms glued to your body because you lost the opportunity to grab the handgrip before you got squeezed stuck by the rush of passengers flooding in.

“Never better,” you let out a strained laugh. Sunghoon frowns a little. The bus rattles. He presses a firm hold against your back before you could even stumble. You notice his gaze flicker into a glare, jaw clenched and pointed at the stranger near you who’s unintentionally digging his elbow into your shoulder blade. You clear your throat, catching his and the other two’s attention. “Park Jongseong, what’s the purpose of your car if you don’t even use it? We would’ve been sitting comfortably and moving faster by now. What a waste of an investment.”

That was half a joke, half not really. Your commutes to campus are always a grueling one-hour experience. Jay narrows his eyes at you, unamused. “You guys keep abusing my vehicle rights. Don’t you know how exhausting it is to drive all of you home all the time?”

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Jake jives in. You nod solemnly. Jay’s mouth hangs open. He looks at Sunghoon for backup but the poor guy is simply ignored.

“Imagine all the time and money we’d save if you were more charitable,” you continue. “Hoon, don’t you agree?”

Park Sunghoon doesn’t give you the answer you’re looking for. “Should I get a license?” he instead asks. You blink at him. He blinks back.

“Will you drive me to campus every day?” you hum, smiling in jest.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want,” is his answer. His gaze has softened. You hear Jake cough from next to you. Jay gives up his retaliation. The bus halts. Everyone leans to the back and you’re reminded by Sunghoon’s firm hold. He presses you into him closer if it’s even possible, if there’s even any space left between you to swallow— and if there is, you don’t see nor feel it. The only thing you feel is the heat emanating from his skin that’s seeping into yours.

A few bodies finally get down from the vehicle. You breathe. You take a step away and grab onto the now vacant handgrip closest to you. Sunghoon’s hold loosens, but his fingers still linger on the curve of your spine. It stays there until you arrive at your stop right across the street from the campus gates. From the bus windows alone, you can already see the staggering amount of people flooding inside.

It gets worse the moment you actually step foot on campus. The first person you lock eyes with— Kim Taerae, welcoming committee since last year— hits you in the face with his business-smile, wide and tight and brimming with sweetness. “Hey, traitor. How dare you show your face here?”

The student council also asked you to be part of the committee. Of course you fucking said no. “Aren’t you gonna welcome me in?” you jab. Taerae’s smile twitches, but a group of actual freshmen walk in and he’s forced to start his welcoming protocol.

Even after getting off the bus, Park Sunghoon is no less closer. You say goodbye to Taerae and greet Seok Matthew, who’s wearing the university fox mascot (which arguably looks like a fursuit, but you digress), with a wave and a camera pointed at him, and Sunghoon maintains a steady hold on your arm as you navigate further into campus grounds.

“Later, Matthew!”

“See you around!”

Yet your path towards the field next to the courtyard keeps getting interrupted.

Every now and again, you’re stopped by a familiar face to exchange greetings. This is why you don’t usually attend university events and festivals. On normal days, people usually stick to their class and extracurricular schedules. But on days like these, everyone is out and about. Meaning, your chances of bumping into someone you know is one in twenty. Renjun from the astronomy club passes by with a hello. Chaewon from one of your electives stops you and tells you to visit their department booth later in the evening.

“Let’s catch a meal sometime!”

Honestly, you’re used to it. Ever since you were a kid, you’ve been conditioned to deal with people and manage your web of relationships in order to seamlessly fit into the ‘elite’ social scene. Every party, every dinner, every event, you’re introduced to a new acquaintance, new same-faced adult, new person to the point where you had to dedicate an entire space inside your brain just dedicated to the faces and names you needed to keep track of.

The space was made up of rows and rows of filing cabinets, sorted according to the people most important to you, the people you may or may not meet again in the future, the people you resent. The son of the neighbors across the block. The daughter of the lawyer that you used to sit in silence with. The kid you met over vacation who always seemed to be crying. The countless adults who’d compliment you for being so well-mannered, so pleasant, so sociable even as a child.

But at some point it gets overwhelming. And when your life turned upside down, you stopped seeing a point in maintaining all these relationships. The cabinets were left unopened, catching dust and cobwebs in that one corner in your brain. That was until a senior of yours back in high school gave you some advice. Something you’d held onto until today.

This is why you shouldn't push people away, he had once told you. Don’t you think it'd be better if you let your thoughts out instead of getting drowned by them?

And that was when the filing cabinets started to get filled again. The classmate you surprisingly shared a lot of interests with. The teacher who helped you with your college applications back in high school. The junior from high school who always kept picking fights with everyone. And the four current friends you have from your year and major, who had somehow wiggled themselves into the near barren drawer saved for the people that mean the most to you, in spite of all the space available underneath.

“Hee texted,” you announce, holding up your phone. Sunghoon nudges his face closer over your shoulder to take a peek. “There’s a delay in the program. They won’t be up for another thirty, forty minutes.” The three expectedly groan in annoyance. You are also annoyed. You could’ve slept in a bit more had you known about the delay, but you quickly swallow down any displeasure from your expression because you spot yet another familiar face amidst the crowd. One of your classmates from a general education. It’d be rude not to say hi. “Hyeju!” you call out.

She spins around, annoyed surprise brightening into a more pleasant expression upon recognizing you. “Oh, hey! How was your break?”

“Nonexistent,” is your very eloquent reply, smiling. Hyeju laughs in sympathy. “Did you see who our prof for the semester will be? Jesus, I’m already predicting dread for the next five months of— whoa!” Suddenly, you’re nabbed and spun around and all you can see is a whir. Click, you hear while your vision is still wobbly, and when your gaze refocuses, you recognize the culprit with the camera in hand, and your forehead wrinkles. “Seonbae, what the fuck?”

Kim Mingyu lowers down his camera to reveal a widely grinning face. “Smile. I need a pretty face for the news update.”

Hyeju taps your arm to inform you she’s leaving. You look at Mingyu, arms crossed and unamused. “Where’s my appearance fee?”

“I’ll buy you coffee,” he responds, signaling to your other three friends (that you momentarily forgot about) to join in the picture as well. You relent with a sigh, beckoning them to come over. Jake hops over and asks if he’s getting coffee as well. Jay wordlessly strides over and puts up a peace sign behind your head. Sunghoon wedges himself between you and Jake and throws an arm over your shoulder. These guys are so overbearing. Mingyu counts from three with his fingers. The camera clicks. He shoots you a grin with a thumbs up. “Thanks. Love you!”

That guy is also a handful. Your sigh is heard by the three of them. “Is this why you hate attending festivals?” muses Jay.

“The woes of being a wanted woman,” you lament. Jake snorts at your woes. You elbow him in the rib.

“You’re so full of yourself.” Jay rolls his eyes, and that’s when he sees something from his peripheral. “Looks like you’ve got another friend, Miss Wanted.”

You follow his eyes and your gaze stops at an approaching Park Gunwook. His jog slows to a walk once he’s within your earshot. “Oh my god, just the person I wanted to see,” your junior starts. Well, that’s never a good conversation starter. “Seonbae, are you busy? Do you mind lending us a hand?”

Exactly as you feared. “What for?” you ask with preemptive exhaustion.

“Our booth sign,” he explains. “Kwan-hyung disappeared. He was supposed to be the one to— ack. Nevermind. Can you help? You’ve done calligraphy before, right?”

The time you take to think about Gunwook’s request coincides with the amount of time Gunwook is sweating in nervous, hopeful anticipation. He’s giving you puppy eyes, respectfulll offering up the marker with both palms open like he’s offering it up for the heavens. You sigh again and take the marker from him. “You three go look for a spot. Call me when Hee’s about to perform.”

Jake simply laughs at your misery. Jay is the only decent one enough to give you a response. “Sure, no problem.” The two already start walking, but Sunghoon is lagging behind. You give him a smile and wave off. “Sunghoon, let’s go,” Jay nudges him. He relents with a grunt and tells you not to go off on your own for too long.

Now, with three men gone, you thought you’d finally get some breathing room.

Unfortunately for you, doing a favor for one cute junior also means doing favors for all of your cute juniors. And you’ve collected many cute juniors in the three years you’ve wasted away in this university. You thought Gunwook’s sign was the end of it. “Noona!” you hear from your left, and it’s Jungwon and Sunoo trailing behind him. “Can you write ours too? Sunoo-hyung’s handwriting is so bad.”

“It’s not! What I made wasn’t even half bad!”

Why exactly are you peers making the second years and freshmen take care of the booth shit? These kids are supposed to be the ones enjoying the festival right now, for fuck’s sake. You’re in the middle of angrily scribbling onto a piece of chipboard when a classmate of yours enters your line of sight. These useless seniors. If they don’t want to work, might as well not show up, like what you’ve been doing for the past semesters.

“Noona!”

“Hold on.”

“Seonbae—”

“Your sign is on the chair over there, Gunwook.”

“Thank you, I love you, you’re the best.”

“Noona, ours too!”

“Sure, give me a second—”

“Noona.”

“Yes?” Admittedly, you’re getting quite annoyed, but you don’t want to misdirect your attitude towards these poor kids who just got work tossed to them. “What is it?” you ask without looking up from the current sign post you’re working on— a free hugs sign for the physical education majors— hunched over on a low stool. You assume it’s just another one of the dozens of kids asking you to write a sign, but you’re surprised to feel a tug on your shirt.

You sit straight and turn around. You’re met by a face that you don’t remember seeing before. Sharp features. Dark hair. A little lengthy to the point that the framing strands touch his lashes. A mole under his eye— and the irises seem glassy. Your brows furrow. Who’s this? Is he a freshman? He doesn’t seem familiar at all.

“Noona,” he repeats. But the way he pronounces the honorific is. The soft cadence, the gentle pitch. The way the syllables roll off his tongue triggers a fuzzy sense of familiarity in you. Yet your attempt at reminiscence is ruined when you feel him grab your shoulders and jerk you forward, dropping the sign you’d been working on in the process and nearly stumbling off your seat. But you don’t. Because you’re suddenly caught in a suffocating embrace by someone you can’t quite tell if he’s a stranger or not. Your eyes widen. His frame is swallowing you whole. “It’s really you. I thought I was seeing things. It’s you. I missed you.”

“Excuse me? What are you—”

A familiar scent hits you. The ocean. The sea. A breeze on the shoreline brushing your hair off of your cheeks, and the wind of nostalgia disappears the moment the strange guy’s trembling grip starts to loosen as he pulls away, taking the scent of the sea away with him. His eyes are frantic— almost like he’s looking for something in the confused wrinkle of your expression. “Don’t you remember me?” he says. He looks like he’s about to cry. And that’s when it hits you.

“Oh— oh!”

A distant summer when you were twelve. Before everything in your life got washed up by the waves.

On vacation you found a boy underneath a coconut tree on the far side of the rocky shore— a far too dangerous place for two children, yet you were interrupted from your seashell hunting by the sound of someone crying amidst the crashing waves.

“Ricky! Ricky Shen! Oh my god, is it you?”

He was the boy you found that day, sobbing because he got separated from his parents during a vacation abroad. When he looked up at you with big eyes stained red by countless tears, you immediately took his hand and traversed the rocky path to take him back to your father for some help.

It took you a while to understand his situation. You didn’t speak the same language. However, throughout his stay with you while waiting for his parents to return, you were able to teach him a few words and phrases.

“Noona.” That was one of them— spoken in the same tone he’d always used even when he was a kid. “I thought I’d never see you again.” That phrase wasn’t any of what you taught him. He’s gotten better, but isn’t…this sentiment a bit much? You’re happy to see him well and alive, but if you remember correctly, he only stayed with your family for around a week, and that doesn’t warrant such an intense reunion, so you’re a bit taken aback.

Yet you also consider that he was a kid back then— a kid who got lost in a foreign country who thought he’d never come home again. To you, it was just another week. To him, that another week stuck with him more than you could even begin to understand.

You want to ask him a bit more, like how did he end up here again, why is at your uni, how long until he has to go back—

“Seonbae!”

—but you lose the chance when you’re interrupted by another one of your juniors. Kim Gyuvin runs up to you in a hurry. You duck down and pick up the chip board you dropped earlier. “Here’s your sign, you knucklehead,” you say, handing it over to him. Gyuvin happily takes it from you and stretches out his arms to read it.

“Oh, thank you!” he says. “But, ah, wait. Right. Someone’s looking for you. I told him to wait by our booth over there.”

“My god, who is it this time?” you grunt. No matter how life fucks you over and turns itself upside down, the amount of people that require your attention just can’t seem to decrease. The filing cabinets in your head can only take so many names. You hop off the stool, ready to leave, before remembering. “Ricky, can you wait for me here? I’ll be back in a sec.”

You start moving but your arm lags behind. You turn to see Ricky still holding onto the sleeve of your shirt, and really— he’s never changed. He might’ve gotten taller, might’ve gotten prettier, but he’s still as cute and clingy as you remember. The one week he spent at yours, the kid would tail you around like a lost kitten all the time.

“Let’s talk more later.” Smiling, you place a hand over his knuckles, and let his loose grip fall completely. He looks like he wants to say something, but he resigns by just nodding instead. “Gyub, where did you say they were?”

“At our booth! Come buy something from us while you’re at it.”

This kid thinks he can extort you. You head off to their booth and check your phone along the way, and you find a missed call and a text from Sunghoon asking where you are. HRM majors booth. Is Heeseung about to go up yet? you reply. Pocketing your phone, you hurry to your destination, squeezing through the barrage of bodies because if Hee is indeed about to perform soon, then you better hurry your ass up, else he’d get mad at you for being ‘such an unsupportive friend.’ His words. You’d rather not have anything that could be used against you.

When you reach the booth, you realize that you have no idea who exactly you’re supposed to be looking for and should’ve asked Gyuvin for a name or description or something. You look around, trying to find someone you know, but in the middle of your search, you feel something…soft drop on your head, falling over your eyes and obscuring your vision.

The hell? You whip your head around blindly, annoyed. Then you hear a laugh. And you quickly remove the object obscuring your face to make sure that you’d just heard that correctly.

Your annoyance quickly disappears into pleasant surprise the moment you’re able to see the culprit’s face. He’s smiling pretty generously, you notice— not the held-back half smiles that he’d very also rarely display, but the kind you once called pretty and he told you to shut the fuck up with a prostesting grunt. It’s just one familiar face after another. These reunions never seem to end.

“Taesannie!”

“Seonbae.”

You want to tease him for the rare occasion that he’s in a good mood, that he isn’t all grumpy and moody, but you want to savor this rare sight of him smiling as much as you can. You pull him in for a hug— which causes him to stiffen a little. He’s uncomfortable and you know it, and you laugh. “I haven’t seen you in ages,” you say with a wide grin, pulling back a bit. “How have you been, idiot? Have you been causing trouble again?”

“I messaged you on IG,” he says, wiggling out of your prison just enough for him to be able to hold your arms above your elbows. “Three months ago. When I got accepted to KSU. You never responded.”

Now, it’s your turn to freeze up. “Oops.” Since graduating high school, you realized you’ve never given him your number. “That’s—that’s my bad. But you know I don’t use social media.”

“I know,” Taesan huffs with a smile. He pulls down your left arm, fingers tracing down your skin until they reach your hand— the hand that removed his cap earlier and he snatches it off from you, fixing it on the top of your head again, gentler this time when he tugs down the visor, just enough for you to keep seeing his face. “That’s why I figured to just look for you myself.”

You feel a bump in your throat.

He’s so tenacious. He’s always been.

You simply laugh and shake your head. “Thanks for being so considerate to your unreliable, unthoughtful, and forgetful senior, Dongmin-ah. I’m glad you didn’t report me to Principal Lee for ghosting you.”

“He retired last year.“ Your face stiffens again. He laughs out loud. He’s been enjoying your mistakes a lot. What a handful. “Anyway, I at the very least hope you haven’t forgotten your promise, seonbae.”

“Promise?” you raise a brow. Crap, did you forget something again? Taesan’s smile disappears the moment you express your lack of remembrance. Your brows furrow, trying your best to recall, but you really don’t remember promising him anything because that’s just not something you would do often just to forget.

“I got accepted to your university. I’m gonna start going to school with you again from now on,” he says, as if that’s enough to jog your missing memories. “Two years was a long time to wait, seonbae. I really don’t want to wait any longer.”

Your confused eyes try to trace hints from his expression. He did get accepted to KSU. He is going to uni with you now. The ID and lanyard he’s wearing is a proof of that— but so what?

So what, you try and tell yourself. But you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Seonbae.”

Taesan looks at you expectantly. It’s difficult to meet his gaze. It’s difficult to get yourself out of this all by yourself. So when you feel the presence of someone approaching you from behind, you take the opportunity to whip your head back and see who it is. Yet rather than finding an opening, what greets you is another closed door. It’s Ricky. “Noona,” he calls out. “You said you won’t take long.”

Somehow, you’ve found yourself caught in a troublesome situation. Your balance stumbles a little. It’s Taesan tugging you back by the shoulder, fixing you closer to the ground right in front of him. “Who the hell are you?” He’s not looking at you— he’s looking right past you, straight at Ricky, who isn’t looking at him at all because the weight of the latter’s stare focused right on you is making you feel like you’re being sunk into the ground.

“Noona,” he repeats, ignoring Taesan altogether. “Let’s go look around the festival together.”

This is...very troublesome indeed. You can feel a throb on the right side of your head. The festival. Right. Has Heeseung’s performance started yet? That’s the only reason why you showed up today, anyway.

Your attempt to pull your phone out of your pocket is blown off by a blunt pressure on your shoulder blade. You look behind to see the hostility in Taesan’s expression scrunching up even further. It’s like you're a mouse caught in between two starving cats. Good god. The only thing you can hope for right now is for someone to swoop in and get you out of here.

And that’s when you hear the sound of your name being called out.

You snap your head to the left to identify your savior. It’s Park Sunghoon with a bitter look on his face. You let out a quiet sigh of relief— but not silent enough to slip past Taesan’s notice.

His gaze flickers down at you. What? What are you going to do? Leave? the glint in his eyes seem to say. He doesn’t look very happy. Neither do the other two men within your premises, and Sunghoon calls out to you again. “Heeseung hyung is about to perform.” A hand around your wrist. Sunghoon pulls you away from Taesan with a firm tug. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, Sunghoon, give me a sec—” You pry yourself out of his hold, patting around your trousers for the marker you used earlier, and calling out Gyuvin from their booth just a few steps away for a piece of scrap paper, on which you scribble down your number. When you look up, it’s fortunate that Ricky and Taesan are still there, albeit not looking too happy. You’re pretty sure the one waiting behind you isn’t amused either with your stalling. “Hey, it was nice seeing you two kids again, but I need to go. Let’s catch up some other time, okay? Here’s my—”

You’re pulled back, the sheet with your number on it slipping past your fingers and brushing through the wind before you could finish your sentence or hand it over to either of them.

Surprised, your head turns to Sunghoon, who’s dragging you off at an impatient pace. “Hoon,” you try calling out. He leads you into a tight crown. Your shoulders and elbows bump into people you don't know. “Hoonie, you’re grabbing me too tight, hey!”

You tear yourself away from him. You’re in the midst of a crowd in the middle of the courtyard— all jamming to the music from the front, stage lights flashing and flickering and flitting around as it starts to get dark. You look at him, brows knitted together, but bite your tongue from saying anything too rough upon seeing the expression he’s wearing.

The only way you can describe it is that he looks like he’s about to die.

“Park Sunghoon,” you start, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer. His eyes leave you when a group of students suddenly come rushing over in the heat of the party, and he closes the space you put in between the both of you by pulling you out of the way of the incoming mob. “Who were they?” he asks. “I know you’re friends with a lot of people, but I’ve never seen those two before. Who were those two?”

Your open palms are pressed against his chest. “One of them, I picked up from the beach when I was a kid.” You use them to push yourself back once the noise from the group has already passed. “The other was a junior in high school. I think they’re both incoming freshmen this year. More importantly, where’s Heeseung? I thought he was about to perform?”

Attempting to look through the large crowd ahead of you, you stretch yourself up with the tips of your toes. “Are you close?” Sunghoon asks again, finding a spot on the small of your back to keep you balanced while you look over his shoulder. “They acted like they were close with you.”

“I don’t know,” is your only reply. “Hey, Jake and Jay are over there! Heeseung, too! Hoon, let’s go!”

Sunghoon does not pry further. He lets himself get tugged along by you as you fight through the crowd, making it just in time to where Jay and Jake are standing before they could call either of you as Heeseung walks up the stage with a huge smile. Right. This is the only reason why you came here today. Everything else is just secondary— stored up in the back of your mind, behind all of your current priorities.

Which is why the moment Heeseung finishes, you immediately excuse yourself from the other three.

“Already?” Jake whines. “C’mon! We were planning on grabbing drinks after this.”

“You still have your shift at the laundromat, right?” Jay asks. “At least say goodbye to Hee first before leaving.”

“Tell him I’ll send him a long sappy message later!” you shout through the noise. “See you guys tomorrow!”

Before you go, you glance at Sunghoon. He wants to say something, you can tell that much. Your lungs grow heavy. All you want to do is just unload washing machines and wipe the floors and windows clean at Suds right now with your music at full volume. Sunghoon finally settles with a simple, “text us when you get to work.” This elicits a look of surprise from Jake.

“Whoa. You aren’t gonna offer to take her there?”

Sunghoon only grunt. You smile and bid them farewell, and for once, you aren’t stopped or interrupted by anyone, and your walk towards the exit gate off the campus runs smoothly along with the setting of the sun. When you take your first step on the pavement right outside university premises, your phone buzzes to a text. [seonbae. it’s taesan]. Followed by another. [what time do your classes end tomorrow? wanna grab dinner together?]

At least you know they got your note. You balance yourself on the bus ride to your part-time job as you think of a response. Tomorrow. What’s on your schedule, again? You have classes from ten to four, and your lunch break is most likely gonna be spent with the four idiots. Tomorrow’s dinner is already booked, too, and your dinner date might get sulky if you cancel on him again this time.

[Will Friday work? Sorry, I’m booked today, Taesan. But we can have a mini-celebration at the end of the week for your KSU acceptance :) what do you say?].

The next morning, when you come down for breakfast, you see your dad wearing a suit.

For a second, you almost completely gloss over it, greeting them a good morning as you walk over the counter for a glass of water. Then you notice he’s not wearing his bike helmet. And when you sniff your nose, you can smell the scent of musky perfume. That’s when you notice.

“Whoa,” you remark, setting your glass down onto the counter. Your mom is helping him fix up his tie. You quickly twirl open your phone to snap this gem of a photo. “What’s the occasion? I don’t recall you having any friends’ whose weddings you can attend.”

You receive a scolding from your mom and a hearty laugh from your dad.

“How do you know I don’t have any friends?” he responds with a smile. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s grab a taxi, I’ll drop you off at your school.”

Even though that doesn’t answer your questions about his plans for today, you neither pry nor push because you know their standard protocol for these things. If they get a catering offer for a big event, you’re the first one they tell. If the electricity bills go up or if a debtor showed up while you’re outside, you wouldn’t even know unless you dig into it, unless you ask a neighbor or a friend or find some evidence they left behind somewhere in the restaurant.

The entire taxi ride is uncomfortable. Not in any way because of the conversation your father is attempting to strike. But because the car’s air conditioning is making your head spin and nauseous. “Why didn’t your friends come by today, by the way?”

“They were too late in fixing their schedules, so they have a 7 a.m. class today,” you snort, laughing. You sometimes wonder why they even bother coming around so often, considering your place is an hour-long commute to and from campus, and Jay never brings his fucking car around.

Your dad makes a comment about which one of them is more your type. You hack out a cough and cover your ears to block his amused laughter out.

“Hey, I’m just asking! My only dream is to see you happily married before I die, you know.”

“Change your dream. I don’t want to be the reason if you live an unfulfilled life,” you groan, face burning up. “Hold on. I’m getting a text from Jeonghan-seonbae.”

“He’s a pretty good candidate too.”

“Stop it! Oh my god, you’re the worst.”

You quickly unlock your phone to read the message. [hey, busy bee. just texting to make you’re not canceling our plans again later 🥰🥰]. You’re pretty sure that this is a threat. How many coffees, lunches, drinks, and dinners have you ruined with him because you had a sudden deadline that day, a work opportunity that same evening. He’d always been understanding, but you never fail to feel guilty after all he’s helped you, and you can’t even give him a few hours of your time. [I’m not!!! I’ll see you at Eojetbam, promise 😞].

“You’re seeing him later, right?” your dad asks.

“Yup. He’s treating me to dinner at this fancy restaurant downtown.”

Unlike usual, your father doesn’t make a comment at your subtle bragging. There’s a look on his face that you can’t pinpoint. “That’s nice,” is all he says after a momentary pause. “Ask him to drive you home tonight.”

“There’s no way I’m doing that,” you disagree. “I still have a bit of shame left, you know.”

You reach campus, and attempt to pay half of the taxi meter but your father simply shoo’s you away. With heavy steps and defeated shoulders, you make your way inside the gate and are greeted by Yeojin, your classmate for the first class you have on your schedule, who just happens to arrive at the same time as you after grabbing a coffee from Drip across the street.

“First day of the semester and I’m already tired,” she tells you with a dejected sigh. “On more exciting news— we got new eye candy on campus. My friends from the fashion and design department told me that two cute new freshmen caught everyone’s attention during the orientation. Their building is right next to ours. God, I hope we bump into one of them today. Just the energizer I’d need.”

All you do is laugh at her news while entertaining the faintest idea that you might know who one of those two is. Last night, you’d called Taesan upon getting home to compensate for turning him down. You caught up a bit, exchanged schedules and he told you his major— fashion merchandising, which caught you by surprise. Well, considering it still falls under business, you could believe it a little better.

Anyhow, if he finds out that he’s been crowned as his department’s cute new eye candy as a title, you’re sure he’d be pretty fucking annoyed. And you intend to capitalize on that. More teasing fuel for you.

“Good morning, everyone. Let’s not waste time on introductions and head straight to our course outline.”

What a way to start the semester. You hold back a million yawns while taking some notes of Prof Yang’s overview of the syllabus. Yeojin asks if you want to hit the cafeteria for a snack in between classes. You shoot her a thumbs up and the moment Prof Yang dimisses, you’re both out the door and into the hallway.

“Hey, hurry up!” you call out to her when she stumbles over her undone shoelaces. “The guys from the phys ed department usually flood the canteen at this time, you know. They’re gonna sweep up all our portions.”

“Not on my watch, they won’t.”

You laugh as you walk ahead, your line of sight lagging behind your body because you want to watch more of her struggling to re-tie her laces as quickly as you can. This causes you to not look at where you’re going— and where you’re going is straight into the body of another person, bumping your nose in the process. “Ow!” you exclaim. “Sorry about that!”

“Noona.”

Oh. You pause, looking up to take a good look at your victim of negligence, and it is indeed Ricky Shen. “Ricky!” you greet. “Did you get home safe after the festival last night? How did you know I was here?”

He smiles as a response. You hold back the urge to squish his face between your palms, reminding yourself that he’s not a kid anymore. “I asked around. Turns out our buildings are next to each other, noona.”

That urge isn’t easily suppressed. “Wow!” you exclaim. Your hand somehow finds itself reaching for the fluff of his hair, and Ricky tips his head down in response, allowing you to press light pats on the crown of his head. “Good job. Now you won’t have to worry about getting lost anywhere anymore.” It hits you as an afterthought though— he could’ve just texted you to ask. Why bother asking someone when he could’ve asked you directly. Taesan got your number even amidst the rush, after all. Ricky must’ve too.

“Noona,” Ricky’s voice interrupts your thoughts. “My back is starting to ache a bit.”

You flinch and snap out of it. “Oh, sorry.” You retract your hand, pulling it close to your chest. “Force of habit, I guess.” If your recollection serves you right, Ricky was very much shorter than you. He’s two years younger, and in the brief week he’d spent with you in your household, you’d been used to him looking up, trying to communicate with you the best that he can with the help of those big, sparkly eyes of his repeating, ‘Noona. Noona! Can we see the pond again? The koi pond?’

Now, you’re the one looking up at him. And a memory begins to surface.

‘Noona.’ It begins with the usual gentle timbre of his voice. ‘Can’t I just stay here with you forever?”

A laugh from Ricky stirs you back into the present. “I was just joking, I don’t really mind,” he hums, smiling. “You can touch me anywhere you want, noona.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa— hold on. You manage a stiff smile. Whoever was his vocabulary teacher needs to get a demotion. This kid can be a bit much can he? You brush his comment off. Ricky’s gaze is as patient yet expectant as ever. “Anyhow, I’m off to the canteen with a friend of mine. Yeojin.” You point your thumb back at her. Said friend has been trying to sneak in the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation, but never got the opportunity. “Do you want to join us?”

He nods firmly. You laugh. His over the top-ness aside, Ricky can be painstakingly cute, and it’s taking everything in your power to prevent yourself from treating him the same way that you’d done before.

The cafeteria run only lasted briefly, considering you two still have a class to catch in less than fifteen minutes. After getting a vegetable wrap and Yeojin’s rice bowl, you had to bid Ricky farewell and return to your department building. On the way, right at the moment that you’d left Ricky’s earshot, Yeojin starts freaking the fuck out. “Whoa, what the fuck?! Dude, that was fashion department cutie number two! The one I mentioned earlier!” she shrieks into your ear, shaking you by the arm. “I hear he’s the son of SQR Fashion’s Chairwoman. What the hell? Why is a rich heir like him bowing his head down for your headpats and paying for our snacks?”

“Listen, I’m just as taken aback as you are.” You’ve known about Ricky’s background when his parents came back for him after his one-week missing period. “I met him once when I was like, twelve, and only bumped into him again yesterday. I’m surprised he still remembers me. He’s barely even an acquaintance.”

You’re not lying. You’re happy to see him, but it still puzzles you why Ricky is acting like this.

“How in the world would you have gotten acquainted with someone like him?!”

All you could do is smile and thank the heavens for the interruption in the form of your phone buzzing to an incoming text. It’s from your dad, asking if you’ve eaten yet, and reminding you to go home straight after your dinner with Jeonghan. Yet another display of weird behavior from a man in your life. He never usually texts you, not to mention what had happened earlier this morning. You might get some information from your mother later. You should pack some leftovers to bring home.

You receive another text. It’s a photo from Jay of Sunghoon, arms crossed and falling asleep in class. There’s drool on his face. You cackle and press save. Yeojin tugs you into the classroom. “We’re not late aren’t we?”

“No, not yet.

“Oh, hey!”

“Wow, you’re taking this class, too?”

The rest if your classes end in a flash, considering it’s only syllabus week, so you manage to get off earlier than you’d initially planned. Yeojin had already split up with you since she has other friends to meet. The four idiots are stuck here at uni until six in the evening because they screwed up their schedules for the semester, and you took a day off from your shift at 7-Eleven today because of the dinner you have scheduled.

That means, for the first time in a while, you’re all alone right now. All alone with nothing to do.

Should you pick up some hobbies? you think to yourself as you aimlessly walk through the streets of downtown to kill time. You’ve never really pondered on these things— not that you’ve ever had the privilege to. Picking up something like crocheting would only be a waste of money. It’s not like you have the time to get into a sport, either.

Your feet stop moving right in front of a bookstore. Open, the sign says. You look at the books on display through the glass. The owner smiles at you from inside. You turn your head, and your feet start moving again.

These books can be downloaded online. There’s no need to spend money on physical copies.

“Ah, my life is so boring,” you lament, continuing your mindless stroll. There’s a taiyaki cart in the corner. You buy a few pieces before making a turn, and that’s when you notice something that’s been bugging you since earlier.

When you make a turn around the block, you notice the same black car you’d been seeing since earlier make a turn as well. It’s only a hunch, but you proceed to move forward further into the street, before spinning your heels and going back into the same direction you came.

The car stops in its tracks. It attempts to make a u-turn at the intersection.

Your hunch is correct. What the hell. You should have never made that remark about your boring life. Quickly, your eyes scan around for an alley you could disappear into, and there you find a narrow opening wedged in between a study cafe and a pharmacy. You push yourself forward before the car could finish its turn— yet the moment your soles stomp into the concealment of brick walls and dusty pavement, you hear the abrupt ringing of your name being called out.

The sound of the voice stirs a rush of nausea from the pits of your stomach. It’s familiar— yet unlike the fondness of seashores that Ricky brought with his, this voice carries the crowbar hitting the latch of all of your pent up emotions for the past decade.

You’re greeted by the face of the man you’d used to see at every dinner, every gala. Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday emerging from your fathers now burnt down study. Every weekend when you’d come over to visit, asking how was your week with a kind, smiling expression.

“Mr Choi.”

How much more forceful reminiscing do you have to undergo this week? Quite frankly, you’re getting so fucking sick of it.

He repeats your name. The car is left on the road beside the sidewalk. He’d up and left just to talk to you in the middle of this dingy street. “Do you…have a few minutes to spare for a chat?” You bite your tongue. You turn around and ignore him, yet he knows exactly what to do to snag your attention. “I met your father earlier.”

And it clicks. It clicks so well that you can hear the sound echoing in the chambers of your brain. Your dad wore a suit for the first time in forever. His out of character texts to check on you. And here you have the person who ruined his life suddenly showing up for god knows what reason— and you know that if you ask your father, he wouldn’t tell you a single damn thing. You don’t think you can stomach it if your life gets fucked and flipped around again, right under your nose without your knowledge.

“For what?” you ask, voice firm. Mr Choi looks around first, eyes scanning the area before drawling out a hesitant response.

“Let’s…let’s talk in private.”

The next thing you know, you’re sitting in front of this bastard in the private booth of a restaurant your eyes failed to register the name of. There’s a full course meal sitting in front of you— sushi, salad, and a clear broth soup. The ice cubes are melting inside the juice. You feel sick to your stomach and a single bite might cause you to vomit on the spot.

Mr Choi has not touched his meal either. He’s finding his footing to start the conversation. “You should…you should try the soup. I’ve eaten here with my sons before. Do you remember them?” You don’t intend on making it easy for him. He clears his throat when you don’t grace him with a response. “I came looking for you and your father today because I’d like to sincerely apologize for what I’d done to you and your family, sweetheart.”

You hold back a scoff. This is ten years overdue, isn’t it?

“I was—I was blinded by my greed back then. I’m so sorry. Sihyuk had been giving me ideas that your father would eventually buy all of the company’s shares for himself and kick me out of the business, and that we needed to beat him to it before he could.” Mr Choi starts explaining, but to your ears, it’s nothing but listless prattles. “I know your father would never do that, but I was paranoid. And I assumed he’d have the capability to bring himself back on his feet anyway, but I didn’t expect things to turn for the worst when your house employees also turned their backs on you and started a fire on your property.”

“It’s all in the past, sir,” you hum, peeling off a piece of salmon from the platter, lifting it into the air before sending it straight to your tongue. It’s a hard swallow. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to treat me with this expensive meal if you didn’t do what you had to, right?”

You stare at him dead in the eye as he shifts uncomfortably. It’s unfortunate that you can’t snap a photo of his discomfort. Mr Choi clears his throat once more, his food still untouched, and tries to grab rein on the conversation yet again.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I know nothing I could say here right now could grant my forgiveness. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make amends,” he starts. “I talked to your father earlier. I offered him a position at S&B, but he declined. Understandably so after what I’d done to him. Which is why I turned to you, instead. I thought I could maybe right my wrongs in a different way.”

“What? Are you dying soon, or something?” you scoff. “Are you trying to clean your resume for heaven before your time is up?” You catch Mr Choi’s jaw clench at your remark. What can you say? Your father is barely home from making deliveries around the clock at every house. You see your mother’s callouses every single day when she sets down the tray for your breakfast, even though you insist you can just buy something from the cafeteria on campus. And there’s this piece of shit thinking he can fix or undo everything with a sorry, with the throwing of his scraps— for the sake of his own guilty conscience.

It’s revolting. It’s pissing you the fuck off.

And yet here you are, in spite of your disgust and anger, you’re swayed by the temptation of a piece of juicy meat being dangled right in front of you.

“Can you get to the point, Mr Choi?” you say. “Do you want me to convince my father to take the offer?”

He releases a smile and a laugh. “I don’t think even you could get through to him, sweetheart.” As much as you hate to admit it, he’s right. You inherited your stubbornness from somewhere, after all. “But I don’t want to give up yet. I’m truly sorry for the consequences my actions had made. I have been made aware of your current living situation, and how you’ve been juggling multiple jobs just to ease the burden from your parents in paying the bills and your tuition.”

Your bones stiffen. You lock your attention on Mr Choi.

“You were correct when you said I just want to clear my conscience, even just a little,” he continues. “Let me pay for your tuition and offer you a place near your school to stay until you graduate.”

There’s a pulse in the air. You can hear it. You hear it clearly.

Mr Choi pulls something out of the inner pocket of his coat. He slides it down the table for you to see and receive.

“You don’t have to give an answer now.” It’s a business card. His number is on it. “But my line is always open once you’ve made up your mind, sweetheart. Please take the time to consider.”

줄다리기 / JULDARIGI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

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darlingdaisyfarm · 10 hours ago

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👁️⃤ evil!Ford x reader

author note: okay im sorry for post spamming but this idea been sitting in my mind for too long and I had to write smth about it, would be glad to read your opinion on that Ford x reader dynamic!^^

so this is a bit of an au situation where evil!Ford is working with Bill now. in this version, reader is Ford’s former ex partner, someone who used to be close enough to him to know his work better than anyone else, including the equation Bill wanted from Ford in canon. Although here Ford doesn’t know the equation anymore, but you do

You’re trapped.

The chair beneath you creaks when you try to move, your wrists aching from the coldness of the handcuffs that keep your hands pinned behind your back. Your breathing is shallow from fighting, your throat feels dry from screaming, but you keep your head high. Defiance in your eyes, even as Stanford’s gaze burns holes through you.

He sits across from you with his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on his thighs, watching you. You squint, noticing a little glow of that infernal symbol on his wrist. Bill’s mark, his new goddamn religion.

“You’re only making this harder for yourself, darling.”

You don’t answer, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Ford leans back in his chair, tilting his head as his eyes drag slowly over you. “Still playing the martyr, i see,” he drawls, unable to hold sarcastic laugh. “you always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“Oh, but, sweetheart,” he says, standing now. “you don’t get it, do you? you can’t win this.”

“You think you’re protecting them,” Stanford continues. “Stanley, the twins. You think they’ll thank you for this? For your stubbornness?”

“You won’t touch them.” you answer through clenched teeth.

Ford crosses the room in a few strides, towering over you now and it feels like his shadow is swallowing you whole. His hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing your face upward to look at him and you don’t recognise him, instead of your Ford, it’s a shadow of a man who’s sold his soul, body and mind, to something far worse than the nightmares you’re used to. Ford digs his fingers into your skin.

“Just tell me the equation, that’s all i want. you give me what i need, and this—” his eyes flick down to the cuffs, to the bruises blooming on your wrists, “—this ends.”

“Go to hell.”

His grip only tightens, and his jaw clenches. For a moment, you think he might snap, might lose that careful control he prides himself on. But to your surprise, he lets out a low, bitter laugh, releasing your chin and pacing a step away.

“Always so stubborn, it’s admirable, in a way. Stupid as fuck, but admirable. But we both know i can make you talk.”

Before you can react, his hand is in your hair, yanking your head back sharply. You gasp, your neck arching painfully as his face appears damn close you feel his breath against your lips. God, this is not how you imagined kissing Ford. Not after he joined Bill Cipher.

“What’s with that fear in your pretty eyes? I won’t bite, not unless you ask.”

“Fuck. . . you,” you say again, but the words sound weaker this time and you hate the fact that even after Ford Pines isn’t the man you remember, you still feel attached to him.

Noticing your hesitation, Stanford’s lips curl into a smirk, and then he’s kissing you, if you can even call it that. Ford is forceful, rough, demanding, his kiss is nothing gentle, his other hand grips your jaw to keep you in place he takes what he wants, biting your lips, his tongue sweeping into your mouth and he groans when you make a pathetic muffled sound.

When he pulls back, your lips are swollen and you swear you can taste the metal, your skin burns from how hard he squeezed it.

“I can do this all night,” Ford trails his long fingers down the side of your neck, brushing the pulse that races beneath your skin. “You’ll give in eventually. . . they always do.”

“I hate you.” but you don’t believe your own words.

That truly makes Ford laugh, the way you say it so dead serious, with that cute glare when you both know it’s not like that.

“Hate me?” he repeats in mockery, as if the very idea is absurd. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your head back to force your eyes to meet his. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart?”

You glare up at him, biting down on the words that threaten to spill from your mouth.

“Funny. That’s not what my muse showed me. Not in your little head, darling.” he talks, savouring every word, enjoying your reaction as you already have panic written all over your face. “let me tell you, in there, you’re begging for it, desperate for me to fuck you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs and the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

“All those filthy little thoughts you try so hard to hide. I had no idea my ex-lab partner was such a slut?”

You feel mad and humiliated at same time, your face burns, but you clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart, we both know exactly where it’s gonna get you.”

#gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #ford pines smut #ford pines x reader #stanford pines #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls ford #grunkle ford #ford x reader #gravity falls fanfiction

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mamasfavourite · 21 hours ago

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queen cobra

pairing: axel kovaćevic x reader

plot: loosely following the plot of the sekai takai, the captain of cobra kai catches the eye of the captain of the iron dragons and manages to deal with her teammates and her crush on axel!

warnings: mentions of abuse, cursing, kissing, fluff, angst and a little implication of smut at the end, kwon is a sweetheart, axel is also a sweetheart, kreese doesn’t exist because he’s rotting in jail!

cobra kai was never your preferred environment, but you fought to survive there, even when the others tried to influence you. you were a good person and you stood by that. you just had to mask it when in the dojo. it’s not like you would be there long, the dojo was just a way to the sekai takai for you.

and you fought like fucking hell for your spot as captain.

you even dealt with the endless bullshit literally everyone except kwon and tory threw your way. before karate, you had trained boxing and taekwondo, mastering both of them. so, it was easy to say you had the highest kick of everyone your team.

which really did come in handy in moments like this! like when kwon started a stupid bet with miyagi-do over whose kicks were highest. the highest anyone had gone was some kid from the russian team named vlad.

169cm.

kwon hid you for the time being, as the miyagi-do male captain and him faced off in front of the crowd of sekai takai contestants. when they shook hands, you watched as he put chalk to his shoe and swung his leg as high as he could.

175cm.

the crowd cheered, surprised by the height he had managed. you and kwon only laughed. he stepped to the side to let you foward. “show them, captain.”

you grabbed the chalk from the ground and locked eyes with robby as you rubbed it on your shoe. you kicked as high as you could, marking an almost inhumanely high point on the wooden whale statue.

you had to admit you couldn’t eyeball the measurements on that one, but you had won by far.

there was a mixture of gasps and applause as your cobras immediately crowded around you, celebrating your easy victory. you stepped foward to the miyagi-do’s, and stuck out your hand to accept your prize.

a whole room to yourself!

you and the cobras were walking back to the hotel. you all had met up with sensei kim at a karate gym on the other side of the city, and were only now getting back. you walked ahead of the others, not really wanting to speak to them right now.

as you entered the hotel reception, you noticed a few familiar people your age, they were most likely from the same dojo. you were walking quite slow so you had time to observe.

on the couches were, a dark skinned girl, who was chewing loudly and texting on her phone and an asian boy, who seemed to be staring into nothing at all.

as you turned your attention back straight, you saw an incredibly cute boy, he looked european to you in some way, maybe scandinavian.. or slavic? you didn’t care! he towered over you, and you took a second to appreciate his features, his messy brown hair and dark green eyes, his sculpted face and built arms.

you shot him a flirty smile as you kept walking, which almost made him drop the plates he was carrying.

“axel! what the fuck? can’t you hold a plate?” the girl from the couch called out. ‘oh so she was a bitch!’ you thought, but dismissed it as you continued walking, the cobras following closely behind, chuckling at the scene.

how could he! he was such a fucking prick. yoon was already getting on your nerves but you lost your shit when he was bitching at you just because you were chosen captain over him.

you unknowingly stomped past your locker room, and accidentally pushed into the wrong one. but you heard something and quieted down. you heard loud, echoing grunts, hits and yells of “ais!”

you snuck to the doorframe, sneakily peering inside and seeing the cute boy from the lobby the day before. he was training with his sensei, delivering strike after strike to the punching mitts ahead of him.

he was insanely focused, and incredibly strong. even through the gi, you could tell he was built. the force behind his punches were insane, but his sensei withdrew from him immediately.

“what are you doing wrong?” his sensei yelled firmly and all of a sudden the incredibly powerful demeanour axel had just flaked away. he flinched as the older man threw the mitts to the floor.

you watched as his sensei struck the poor boy, you had almost grown attached to. not once, not twice. you could tell he had to hold himself back after the third time. he picked up the mitts and commanded axel to continue.

but before he even landed a second punch, the mitts were on the floor again and axel was being hit. you heart hurt to watch it. you let out a soft gasp.

axel turned his head at the sound and saw you, you shot him a sad smile and walked through the hallway, hearing his sensei yell at him as you kept walking forward.

the cobras wanted to go somewhere and get drunk, and as their captain, you had to go. plus you had secretly hoped you might bump into the guy you had been crushing on for the last two days.

kwon was slumped against the counter, trying to maintain a conversation with you, but miserably failing. yoon and the others were standing around tory, trying to make their lazy advances that seemed to go completely unnoticed.

“씨발, 나 산책하러 가야 돼.. 안전하게 지내라, 얘들아 (fuck this, i’m going on a walk, get home safe boys.)” tory practically growled at you, still insulted by the fact she couldn’t speak your language but the remainder of the team telling you goodnight or to stay safe.

you left your half empty bottle of beer on the counter as you walked out, heading straight for the beach. it was calm, and quiet, and for a second you thought you heard the same sounds as earlier.

“ais! ais!” you heard and you recognised the voice, turning to watch as axel stood a couple metres away from you, shirtless, practising his kata. you watched for a couple moments before you spoke up.

“that’s a really cool kata, what’s it called?” he immediately turned around. he smiled at the sight of you and answered softly, “it’s called enpi.”

you nodded and were about to answer before he spoke again, “i don’t mean to be rude, but it’s a pretty common kata, and you’re an incredible fighter, i’m shocked you don’t know it.”

you looked at the floor for a second, before meeting his eyes, as they watched you. “it’s okay! i’m originally a kick-boxer and i studied taekwondo, so that’s my more proficient area.. i can apply a lot of it to karate though so it’s perfect!”

he nodded and gave you a small smile as he continued the conversation with you. “you’re incredibly strong in karate, i wouldn’t have noticed!” he spoke to you.

you stepped closer to him and brushed his arm. “thank you, you’re very strong, i mean clearly.” you said, trying to make it clear you were flirting with him. “i-thank you.” his smile turned bashful and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“you’re amazing.” he said, and immediately paused to reformulate his statement. “i-mean your dojo’s amazing!” you beamed at him. he was honestly so cute you wanted to squeal sometimes.

you smiled, about to speak but he beat you to it once more. “can i join?” he asked you, and you immediately felt yourself get kind of excited at the idea.

“the cobras? i mean, the boys are stupid but kwon’s okay, he just tries to overcompensate when he’s around others but he’s such a sweetheart i promise-“ you began to ramble.

“i meant your walk..” he replied, almost annoyed with himself that he interrupted you once more. you smiled at him once more and accepted. “of course!” you watched as he turned around to grab his jacket.

your eyes fixed on his back, and the scars covering it. you touched them experimentally and felt his body tense under your hand. “i-i’m sorry.. are you okay?” you asked him, empathy laced in your voice.

he quickly grabbed his jacket and put it on, hiding his back from you. “i’m okay.” he quickly dismissed you. you slid your hand into his and nodded somberly. the pair of you started to walk towards the footpath.

you responded to him. “you don’t have to talk to me about it, but i know what it’s like to have an abusive sensei and it’s always okay to not be okay.” you turned your head to face him as he did the same for you.

“thank you. it means a lot.” he smiled softly as you both stood still and he stared at your face. you asked him to lean down a little bit, claiming you had a “secret” to whisper to him.

once he was close enough to your height, you reached onto your tippy toes and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. you let out a soft giggle as you did and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart beat out of his chest.

you had stumbled upon the cobras, well not all of them, but yoon and a few others. they were clearly drunk and yoon smirked as he saw you. “y/nnn, who’s the guy?” yoon asked, cockily as he dragged out the last letter.

axel’s hand tightened protectively against yours.

“who would’ve thought our captain’s with the enemy..” another boy whined behind him, and you couldn’t quite make out who it was but it enraged you. you replied to them sharply, with authority.

“you know, i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter was being preyed on by a bunch of drunk losers on her team.” that’s when the remainder of the cobras scattered, but yoon stood in place. you were loosing your patience, and so was axel.

“and i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter is fucking around with some pussy off the hong kong team.” yoon cockily challenged you, but axel stepped forward instantly.

you put a hand on his chest and pushed him back, reassuring him you’d handle it but he kept his fists clenched in preparation.

you stepped towards yoon and spoke to him loudly. “지난번에 팀원 중에 나한테 엉뚱한 짓을 한 사람이 있었던 걸 기억나? (remember what happened the last time someone on the team fucked with me?)” he swallowed and waited for you to continue.

“그러니 그런 일이 일어나기 전에 빨리 호텔로 돌아가세요. (so get your pussy ass back to the hotel before it happens to you).” and with that, he sprinted in the opposite direction, following after his teammates.

you turned back to axel and smiled, “i’m so sorry, you had to be there for that.” you spoke softly to axel and you felt his rough hands envelope yours. “it’s okay, i’m sorry you have to put up with that.” he answered. gazing into your eyes.

“it’s okay, it’s not your fault. it’s all you expect from egotistical teenage boys.” you smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

“i’m not like that, am i?” he asked you, worried that he was like them. you instantly shook your head. “nonono, axel, not at all.” your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes and he noticed it.

he held himself back, with the worry that you may have only done it as a mistake, or a way to make sure he was comfortable. he released one of your hands and the pair of you kept light conversation as you walked.

outside your hotel, he stopped. “we’re in the same hotel, axel, we don’t need to split up.” you turned to face him and watched as his brow furrowed slightly, in thought. he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

you leant into his touch and looked up at him, knowing it was his way of making a move. you reached as high as you could to put a hand on the back of his neck, and the other rested on his chest as you pulled him into you.

his lips met yours. they were soft and you couldn’t help yourself. his hands reached down to your waist before he pulled away.

“we should probably go to our rooms now.” he said, and you giggled softly, once again, still excited from your kiss. you nodded in agreement, as you held hands again and walked to the elevator.

as soon as the doors shut, he couldn’t help himself any more and pressed you softly against the wall as you continued what you had done just a few minute prior, outside the hotel.

except this time, it was deeper, and it was hungry. his hands wandered over your body, tapping under your thighs, telling you to jump, and as you did, his strong arms held you, kneading at the flesh there as he continued to attack your lips.

at some point, when the pair of you were so wrapped up in eachother, the elevator doors opened. he frowned as you pulled away from him and commanded him jokingly to “put you down!”

he did, and just as you were about to leave, he spoke up once more. “let me walk you back.” and you accepted, still giddy from your stolen kisses.

once you reached your door you smiled and leant up to peck him on the cheek. “goodnight, axel!” and just as you turned around he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him once more.

he kissed you one last time before you went inside. “goodnight beautiful.” he smiled as he started walking away. it took you too seconds before you called after him, dragging him back once more.

“axel, i do have a room to myself… if you wanted to put it to good use?”

#axel kovacevic x reader #axel kovacevic #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #kwon jae sung #kwon jae-sung #karate kid #fan fiction #axel x reader #iron dragons

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daniiiboo · 1 day ago

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fearless- jh86

summary- moments in the song fearless that i thought was jack core

dani's thoughts- yay ! another fic ! and im actually rlly happy w this one !!!

warnings- nu uh nope! only cuteness

word count- 2254

You walk me to the car And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there In the middle of the parking lot

The game had just wrapped up, and the arena buzzed with the energy of victory. Jack had been on fire tonight, his usual flashes of brilliance lighting up the ice: his speed, his vision, the less-than way he threaded passes, all were reasons you loved watching him play. But tonight, something felt even more electric, even though the game had ended.

The two of you made our way through the quieting corridors of the arena, past the excited chatter of teammates and staff, heading toward the exit. The night air was cool against your skin as you and Jack stepped outside into the parking lot, the sounds of the city filling the silence between the two of you.

"You were amazing out there," you said, nudging Jack lightly with your shoulder.

He grinned at you, the glint in his eyes.

"Thanks. We got the win, that's what matters, right?"

"Of course," you said, smiling up at him. "But that assist in the third period? That was next level."

Jack's grin widened as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

"You know I play better when you're watching," he teased. His voice was light, but you could make out the affection in his eyes.

You both had reached his car, but just before he turned the door open, Jack had turned and faced your direction. For some seconds, he was staring, like holding onto the quiet of that particular moment. The low hum of the city seemed very far, like the world had come down to just the two of you.

"Hey," he said softly, taking my hand, pulling you gently toward him. "I wanna ask you something."

You tilt your head, intrigued by the way his voice softened, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more sincere.

"Anything," you replied, your heart skipped a beat.

"You walk me to the car," he started off, a smile pulling at his lips, "and you know I wanna ask you to dance right here. In the middle of the parking lot."

You blinked, not quite believing what you were hearing. But then his eyes flashed with that mischievous glint, and you just couldn't help it.

"You want to dance? Here? Now?"

Jack grinned, all charm. "Yeah. Out here. No music, just us."

You couldn't help but smile. This was so Jack: spontaneous, a little bit crazy, and completely endearing. But you didn't hesitate. Because right then and there, you knew it didn't matter where the two of guys were, whether a band was playing or a big crowd was watching, it was just him and you, and that was enough.

"Alright, let's do it," you said, pulling him toward the center of the empty parking lot.

The cool night air brushed against your cheeks as you and Jack stood there, the stars overhead sparkling like diamonds in the vastness of the sky. Jack took your hand, his fingers warm against yours, and he pulled you close.

"See? It's perfect," he murmured.

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

He just shrugged, his grin never faltering.

"Crazy for you."

And then, without any music to lead the two of you, you guys started swaying. There was nothing to be heard except the soft rustling of the wind and the far-off buzz of the traffic. Your feet moved slowly without much rhythm, but it didn't matter. The two of you were in our own world, the noise of everything else falling away.

His hand was at the small of your back, tugging you closer while your arms wrapped around his neck. You felt the warmth emanating from his body, the steady beat of his heart against your chest, and in that single moment, it felt as though nothing else in the world could be more perfect.

"You know," he said in a hushed tone, his voice barely above a whisper, "this is probably one of the best parts of the night."

You smiled, your cheek resting against his shoulder. "I couldn't agree more."

You danced like that for hours, it felt like, the world silent around you except the sound of breathing, the rhythm of your feet upon the pavement. There were no distractions, no obligations, just the two of you, caught in this small, intimate moment.

At some point, you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was soft, his smile genuine, and the way he looked at you made everything else seem irrelevant.

"You know," you said, a teasing note in your voice, "we should probably get in the car before people start wondering why we're having a private dance party in the parking lot."

Jack's eyes danced with mischief.

"Let them wonder. This is our moment."

Run your hands through your hair Absent mindedly makin' me want you

You watched Jack from the passenger seat as he took the roads, his eyes on the streets ahead, hands clasped on the wheel with that natural ease that always made him look so confident. Jack was always composed under pressure, whether it was on the ice or moments like these; it was one of the things you loved most about him.

As the night settled into a peaceful rhythm, you found myself getting lost in the way the light of the streetlamps danced across his face, casting shadows that so accentuated his features that he could almost have been the star of a movie scene. Then, without warning, he did it.

Jack ran a hand through his hair, pushing strands back, and it was as if the world around the two of you froze. You couldn't help the way your heart skipped at the simple, absent-minded gesture. His hand ruffled through his messy brown hair as if he didn't even realize what he was doing. But for you? Impossible to ignore.

It was such a small movement, yet it swallowed you in a wave of heat and made you want him more than you already did. He had done something so casual, not even thinking about it, and the surge of longing felt foreign.

"You make it hard to concentrate," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper.

At first, Jack didn't seem to hear you; his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, but then you saw those lips curve into that playful smile, the one which always made your knees go weak. He glanced over at you for a second, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Distracted already?"

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Just… just run your hand through your hair again."

Jack's eyebrow rose in obvious amusement.

"What, this thing?" He lifted his hand and ran it through his hair again, this time slower, more deliberate.

You couldn't but laugh lightly, but inside, you were already a mess. Just the way he did it, effortless, natural. The way his fingers slid through his hair so absent-mindedly, the motion almost hypnotic, making you want him even more.

"You're impossible," you muttered, your voice playful, but full of undeniable tension.

He grinned, his eyes still on the road, yet the corners of his mouth curled upward in that familiar, irresistible way.

"You love it," he said, as if it were some sort of fact.

You leaned back against the seat, feeling the warm night air through the slightly cracked window, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. The streetlights blurred as you drove further into the quiet suburbs, but all you could focus on was Jack, his smile, the way he looked when he was so comfortable with you, the way his presence felt like home.

"Do you know what you do to me?" you asked lowly, your voice barely a whisper.

He looked at you again and softened.

"What do I do?"

You turned to him, your heart thudding in your chest.

"You just. you're so effortlessly you, and everything-every little thing-you do drives me crazy. You make me want you so much without even trying."

Jack didn't say anything for a minute, and the silence between the two of you stretched out just a bit longer than usual. Then he reached over, his hand finding yours, his fingers gently wrapping around it.

"You don't know how much I love hearing that," he said softly, his voice serious but warm.

You squeezed his hand; the touch from him was like an anchor- real. There was no need for great gestures, sweeping declarations, and quiet moments like these, where it was just the two of you and nothing outside existed.

As Jack turned onto your street and pulled into the driveway, he didn't immediately turn off the car. Instead, he looked over at you, his eyes soft, searching.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice low almost to a murmur.

You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You," you said simply, your voice soft but filled with all you felt at that moment.

And I don't know why But with you I'd dance in a storm In my best dress

It was one of those nights that have everything go just right-the kind that make you smile for no particular reason whatsoever. You and he had spent the evening enjoying each other's company, dinner at that little place the two of you loved, having laughed over dessert, talking about anything and everything. It wasn't anything extravagant, but that's what made it feel so special. It was just the pair of you, lost in your own little world.

As you guys left the restaurant and out into the cool night, the weather seemed to shift. The air had been crisp when you arrived, but now standing in the parking lot, the clouds overhead grew darker and the wind started to pick up. You could feel the first drops of rain hit your skin-light at first, but quickly turning into a steady downpour.

Jack didn't, though. His hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he led you toward the car.

"Looks like we're going to get soaked," he said with a grin, his voice light teasing.

"I don't mind," you replied, your smile matching his. "I think it's kind of perfect."

He glanced at you, a little surprised by your reply, but there was something in your voice that seemed to spark something in him. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand as he opened the car door for you.

But no sooner were you getting into the passenger seat than you felt the sudden urge to do some crazy thing. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and you couldn't help but think of all those times you dreamed about dancing in a storm. Why not now? Why not tonight?

Before Jack could even sit down in the driver's seat, you threw open the passenger door and stepped back out into the rain, feeling its cool water rush over you. The sound of the storm was loud, thunder rumbling in the distance, but all you could hear was the beat of your heart racing in your chest.

You twirled to face him, a wild grin spreading across your face. "Come on," you hollered over the storm. "Let's dance!

Jack blinked in surprise, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he looked from you to the pouring rain. He shook his head, but his smile never faltered. He closed the car door and jogged toward you, his hands already reaching for yours as the two of you met in the middle of the parking lot.

And without another word, you danced. The rain came down on you guys, soaking through your clothes in seconds, but it didn't matter. The world around you could have been falling apart, and you wouldn't have noticed. Jack spun you around, wet hair flying around your face, and you laughed, the sound mingling with the rumble of thunder.

At that moment, there were only the two of you, lost in the storming chaos.

You stepped back and looked up at him, his face lit by the occasional flash of lightning. He, too, was laughing, his brown hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I don't know why," you said, panting from the dance, "but with you, I'd dance in a storm, in my best dress."

Jack's smile softened as his gaze locked with yours, holding you close against him.

"You make everything perfect, even the storm."

You grinned, feeling the rain running down your skin, free, alive, the world yours for the taking.

"You know," you said, "I think I'd do this every night if I could."

Jack pulled you close against him, his arms wrapping around you, holding tight as the storm raged around the two of you. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice a quiet murmur as he said, "I'd dance in any storm, any time, as long as it's with you."

And in that moment, it didn't matter that you were soaked to the bone, or that the storm wasn't showing any signs of stopping. It didn't matter, because it was with him. And that was all that mattered.

You guys stood there, swaying together in the rain, dancing under the storm that couldn't touch the two of you, knowing that you had everything you needed in that moment.

#dani writes ᡣ𐭩 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #new jersey devils x reader

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 1 day ago

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Protective Gale Dadkarios Thoughts

A/N: I am once again thinking about Gale being a father and it's giving me emotions. This man makes me soft guys!

Okay, first things first, this is more in keeping with my Single Mom!Tav, Gwen, headcanons (found here)

Basically Gwen had a tiefling child, Clara by a previous marriage. She and her husband divorced and after Gale and Gwen got married they had a daughter named Morgan

As I've kind of dove into here; Clara and Morgan have a hard time conceptualizing their father as an adventurer

Yes, obviously, he was, but to them he's just their dad; the one who makes bad jokes and cooks and reads them stories, it's not necessarily real to them

So imagine for a moment, Clara walking through the market with a little Morgan in tow

Clara old enough at this point to go by herself, but Morgan is obessed with her big sister and Gwen insist Clara bring Morgan with her

Clara begrudgingly agrees, taking the coin Gwen gave them to buy some things for dinner while Morgan tugs on her sleeve asking if they can get a treat

Clara is too distracted to notice at first the sound of horses hooves galloping toward them. The store keeper in front of them suddenly drops with an arrow to the chest. The rest is chaos.

Clara doesn’t know what to do except grab Morgan and start running back towards home. Morgan is scared though and too little to run properly.

Clara then ducks them between a few barrels just hoping nobody notices them. She only is just able to catch her breath when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

She starts to yell ready to start biting just like her uncle Astarion told her when she sees her dad kneeling down next to them.

Morgan throws her arms around him and Clara isn’t that far behind

Gale hugs them both asking if Gwen is with them. Clara tells him she’s back home. She then sees something in her dad’s eye she hasn’t seen before.

His jaw is set and there is something calculating in the way he looks out at the choas on the other side of the alley way. He then kisses them both of the forehead and tells them very calmly to stay hidden, he’ll be right back.

Morgan starts to reach out to her dad, but Clara holds her back. Something in how he said it makes her actually feel the necessity to do as he says.

Still, she can’t help it take a peak as she sees her dad step out of the alley with nothing but his staff.

The next thing she sees is a display of magic she’s only heard in stories.

The fire that rains down isn't done out of fury, but cool precise calculation

Time might as well have stopped

Gale isn't being extravogent or showing off, this is a wizard at full power cleaning up the mess in the most efficient way possible

When the dust clears, Gale stands in the middle of it all without a scratch on him

He then turns back to see Clara and Morgan peaking out of the alley way

He wants to chastize them for not hiding properly like he said, but he can't bring himself to do it, espeically when Morgan comes charging into his arms

Clara isn't far behind and he gathers them both to him

Everything is alright now, time to go home

Morgan is really too little to understand what she just saw, only that it was scary and the safest place she can think to be is in her father's arms

Clara honestly can't help but stare at him; she didn't think he was that...well, cool

Of course, this illusion is shattered the second he makes a bad joke in some attempt to get them to smile

At the end of the day, he's still their dad; soft, safe and warm

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dadkarios #gale x tav #gale x oc #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x gwen

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emjayewrites · 1 day ago

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are you with me or what? (fouled by fate epilogue) • aurelien tchouameni

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, angst, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @perfecttrashface @2serenity0 @muglermami @sucredreamer @julescpu @azzurvertz @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @bbgkoo @lottins-only @pepfectionary @peyiswriting @rosiesdior @yeea-nah @kj77 @imjustheretomanifest @judesvirtual @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This is the official end to ZuZu & Aurelien's story! I can't believe we are done! ZuZu and Aurelien are my OTP - I'm so happy to complete their story.

The last echoes of the crowd’s chants still hung in the air as Zuri made her way down the stadium steps, linking arms with Lila and Senait. The outcome of El Clásico had been brutal: Real Madrid had suffered a harsh 0-4 loss to FC Barcelona. Despite the sting of defeat, Zuri found herself laughing with her friends, her spirits lifted by the infectious energy surrounding them.

Senait was the most surprising of them all. She had spent the match enthusiastically cheering for Jules, and seeing her wave her Barcelona scarf and shout his name had almost felt surreal. Now, as they waited for the players to emerge from the showers, Zuri couldn’t resist teasing her.

"Never thought I’d see the day," Zuri mused, nudging Senait. "You really are Jules’ number one fan now, huh?"

Senait rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. "Don’t get used to it. It’s a one-time thing," she quipped, though her gaze flicked to the tunnel with undeniable anticipation.

Lila snickered, while Zuri exchanged a knowing look with her. Jules and Senait might have been taking things slow, but today’s public display of support spoke volumes.

As the players finally began filtering out, Zuri’s heart softened at the sight of Aurélien. Despite the loss, he held his head high, his hair still damp and his shoulders tense from the intense match. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him, offering comfort.

"You were amazing out there," she whispered, even if the score said otherwise.

Aurélien exhaled, the frustration still evident in his eyes, but he softened at her touch. "Merci, mon cœur," he murmured, leaning into her embrace.

Meanwhile, Jules emerged with a smug grin, immediately gravitating toward Senait. His confidence was unshaken, and the chemistry between them was undeniable. Zuri couldn’t help but smile, happy that her friends were finding their way, too.

Jude, however, was another story. His disappointment was palpable, and his jaw was set in a hard line. Lila noticed, slipping her hand into his and whispering something softly. The concern in her eyes spoke of their deepening connection, and she led him away, promising to catch up with the group later.

The scene shifted quickly after that. By the time Zuri and Aurélien were back in their home, the focus had turned from football to something far more exciting: packing for New York City. Malik’s engagement party was just around the corner, and Zuri carefully folded her dress into her suitcase. The gown, a stunning piece designed by a renowned Eritrean designer, honored Brynn’s heritage with intricate, hand-stitched patterns that shimmered under the light. The rich gold and deep red fabric felt like a celebration in itself, and she couldn’t wait to wear it.

Aurélien came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You look like you’re daydreaming," he teased.

She leaned back into him, a smile spreading across her lips. "Just thinking about how far we’ve come."

Indeed, so much had changed. Zuri had filed the restraining order against her father, and Aurélien had secured a cease and desist letter, deciding not to press for defamation. Malik had been her rock throughout the ordeal, and her mother had begun to find her own strength. Now living with Malik and his fiancée, Brynn, her mother was healing, and Zuri’s relationship with her was growing stronger by the day. The future, once clouded with uncertainty, now felt full of promise.

Madison Square Garden felt like coming home in a different way for Aurélien. He'd been to countless Knicks games over the years, but this was his first time bringing Zuri. Usually, he'd come with Jules, Cama, or other football friends during off-season breaks, but watching Zuri's excitement as they walked through the tunnel to their courtside seats hit differently.

"I still can't believe you're a Knicks fan," she said, settling into her seat. "Thought all Europeans were obsessed with the Lakers."

Aurélien grinned. "Been coming here since I was nineteen. The Garden just hits different."

A few of the regular courtside faces nodded in recognition – they were used to seeing him here during his NYC trips. Jalen Brunson came over during warm-ups, dapping him up.

"Thought you had a match this weekend," Jalen said.

"It got postponed," Aurélien explained, then turned to Zuri. "Babe, this is JB. JB, my fiancée Zuri."

Jalen's eyes widened. "Fiancée? When did this happen? Last time you were here you were talking about focusing solely on football."

Aurélien glanced at Zuri, who was trying not to laugh. "Long story, bro."

The game itself was electric – Knicks versus Cavs always brought intensity. Aurélien found himself splitting his attention between the court and Zuri, loving how she got into the game's rhythm.

"Your brother teach you all this?" he asked during a timeout.

"Please. Malik wishes he taught me about basketball," she shot back, making him laugh.

Speaking of Malik – tomorrow's engagement party loomed in Aurélien's mind. A chance for both families to come together, to show that the drama with Ernest was behind them. Zuri seemed to read his thoughts.

"Stop worrying," she said, squeezing his hand. "Tomorrow will be perfect."

His attention shifted back to the game as the Knicks went on a run. The Garden erupted, that familiar electricity he loved filling the arena. Zuri jumped up beside him, caught in the moment, and he pulled her close when she sat back down.

During halftime, they grabbed drinks – him sticking to water while Zuri nursed a beer. The second half was even better than the first. Knicks pulled ahead in the fourth quarter, Brunson hitting clutch shots that had the crowd going wild. Watching Zuri celebrate each basket, trash-talking with the Cavs fans nearby, Aurélien felt that familiar warmth in his chest.

When the final buzzer sounded – Knicks winning 115-109 – Aurélien felt that familiar Garden high. Zuri was still arguing with a Cavs fan about a questionable call in the third quarter, her energy infectious.

"Come on," he laughed, pulling her away. "Don't start an international incident."

"Did you see that travel though?" she protested as they made their way through the tunnel.

"Clearly you've been watching too much football. Getting all technical about rules. I see you, lil' ref."

The night air hit them as they exited MSG, the city alive with its usual energy. They'd both walked these streets countless times, but tonight felt different. Maybe because tomorrow would change everything – Malik and Brynn's engagement party marking a new chapter for their families.

"You're thinking too loud," Zuri said, wrapping both arms around one of his as they walked.

"Just thinking about tomorrow. Your father—"

"Won't be there," she finished firmly. "Mom's coming though. And she's excited about the traditional dances Brynn's family has planned."

Aurélien nodded, remembering the last conversation with Zuri's mother. The way she'd apologized, really apologized, for doubting him. For letting Ernest's lies cloud her judgment.

They walked past the bright lights of Penn Station, the sidewalks still bustling despite the late hour. A few people recognized him, but no one really cared about European football players in this city.

"You know what I love about being here?" he said, guiding Zuri around a halal cart. "No one cares that I play for Madrid."

"Humble," she teased. "But I get it. It's nice being normal sometimes."

They stopped at Zuri's favorite late-night spot – a hole-in-the-wall pizza place she'd discovered in college. The owner, Tony, brightened when he saw them, and Aurélien was surprised that he remembered him from his last visit with Zuri weeks ago.

"Lil' Zu and her soccer boy! Where ya been?"

"Back in Madrid," Aurélien explained, ordering their usual slice. "Here for my future brother-in-law's engagement party."

"Malik's finally doing it, huh?" Tony said, sliding their pizza across the counter. He'd heard all about her family during her previous late-night visits. "About time."

As they settled into their usual corner booth, Aurélien watched Zuri devour her slice. These simple moments – pizza at midnight, post-game highs, walking New York streets – felt precious now. After everything with Ernest, every peaceful moment felt like a victory.

"Stop," Zuri said, not looking up from her pizza.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that. All soft and worried." She met his eyes. "Tomorrow is about Malik and Brynn. About celebration. No drama."

"Tomorrow's going to be beautiful," Aurélien said, stealing a bite of her pizza. "The venue Brynn chose, mixing both of their personalities... it's perfect for them."

"Like us at our engagement party," Zuri smiled. "Though with less family drama."

"Your mom's been different lately," he observed. "More like herself."

"She is. Finally seeing clearly again." Zuri wiped her hands on a napkin. "She keeps apologizing, you know. For believing him."

"She's your mother. She was scared."

"Still. The way she treated you..." Zuri shook her head. "But tomorrow's not about that."

They finished their pizza and headed out into the night again. A car zoomed by, hip-hop blaring from its windows. Tomorrow would be all tradition and family, cultural dances, and ceremonial blessings. But tonight was just them – a footballer and his fiancée, full of pizza and post-game excitement, walking New York streets like any other couple.

"We should head back," Zuri said eventually. "Early morning tomorrow. Brynn will kill me if I'm late helping with preparations."

Aurélien flagged down a cab, but before opening the door, he pulled Zuri in for a kiss. She tasted like pizza and possibility, like home and adventure all at once.

"What was that for?" she asked when they parted.

"Because I can," he smiled. "Because we made it through everything. Because tomorrow we get to celebrate love winning."

"Not you being a full-on sap."

"Only with you."

The cab ride back to their hotel was quiet, Zuri curled into his side, both of them watching the city blur past. Tomorrow would be grand and meaningful, but these moments – just them, just peace – were the ones Aurélien treasured most.

_______________________________________________

The evening was vibrant, alive with the rhythms of Cameroonian and Eritrean music blending seamlessly. The venue in Brooklyn had been transformed into a kaleidoscope of culture, draped in colorful fabrics and traditional decor. Brynn looked radiant, her intricate Habesha kemis dress sparkling under the twinkling lights, while Malik beamed with pride beside her.

Zuri’s dress caught the attention of many, the gold and red fabric flowing around her as she moved through the crowd. She found her mother near the dance floor, and before she knew it, they were swaying together to the beat, laughing like they hadn’t in years. The weight of the past few months seemed to lift in that moment, replaced by the pure joy of celebrating love and family.

Aurélien soon joined them, his broad smile lighting up his face as he pulled Zuri into his arms. They danced together, caught up in the music, the energy of the room, and the warmth of each other. Zuri felt her heart swell with happiness. They had faced so much, but love had carried them through every storm.

Malik’s voice cut through the music as he raised a toast, his arm around Brynn. "To family, to love, and to the future we’re all building together!" he declared, his deep voice full of emotion.

The room erupted in cheers, and Zuri felt tears prick her eyes. She caught Aurélien’s gaze, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I love you," he whispered.

Zuri looked up at him, her smile radiant. "I love you too."

They danced into the night, surrounded by laughter, love, and the promises of tomorrow.

in december…

The Alpine air was crisp, a delicate chill carrying the scent of pine and freshly fallen snow. Megève looked like something out of a snow globe, with its cozy chalets draped in twinkling fairy lights and the hum of holiday cheer spilling from bustling cafes. Zuri had never seen anything quite like it, she couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty around her.

The lodge buzzed with activity. Lila, bundled in a thick cable-knit sweater and her hair pulled back into a bun, was bustling around the kitchen, making hot cocoa for everyone. Jude stood beside her, watching with an amused expression as she meticulously arranged marshmallows on top of the steaming mugs.

Zuri joined them, her own chunky sweater swallowing her frame, and she reached for one of the mugs. "Is this your famous hot chocolate recipe?" she teased Lila, who was known for adding a secret ingredient to make it extra sweet.

Lila grinned. "Of course. Only the best for our holiday crew." She passed Zuri a mug, then handed another to Jude, who pulled her in for a kiss.

Watching them, Zuri couldn’t help but feel a pang of happiness for her friend. Lila and Jude’s relationship had grown so much, and it was clear how deeply they cared for each other. Their love had a quiet strength to it, something Zuri admired and felt inspired by in her own relationship with Aurélien.

As she sipped her cocoa, she glanced over at Senait, who was lounging on one of the benches outside. Senait was bundled in what looked to a sweater belonging to Jules, her dark curls framed her thoughtful expression as she watched the snowflakes fall. Zuri's eyes then moved to Jules, who made his way into the kitchen to grab a mug of cocoa.

What's going on with these two? she wondered before grabbing another mug and making her way outside.

"Senait," Zuri's voice broke, appearing beside her best friend. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That soft smile you get when you look at Jules." Zuri handed her a mug. "You know, the one you swore you'd never have?"

Senait accepted the cocoa, breathing in the sweet aroma. "Therapy's helping," she admitted. "Making me see things differently."

"Like?"

"Like maybe being scared of something good is worse than risking getting hurt." Senait took a sip of her cocoa. "And maybe Jules is worth the risk."

Zuri's smile was knowing. "Finally figured that out, huh?"

Inside, laughter erupted from the kitchen. Jules had lifted Lila away from the stove, declaring her marshmallow-to-cocoa ratio "criminally sweet." Jude was recording the whole thing while Lila protested in between giggles.

"They're good people," Senait said softly. "Your friends."

"Our friends now," Zuri corrected. "That's what happens when you stop fighting the good things, Sen."

Later that afternoon, the group made their way to the ski resort, the mountain a breathtaking landscape of pristine white snow. Zuri had never skied before, and she was grateful to have Aurélien as her instructor. Dressed in sleek ski gear, he looked every bit the confident athlete, and she couldn’t help but tease him as he helped her adjust her boots.

"Are you sure you won’t leave me stranded at the top of the mountain? Like how Gabriel did to Emily?" she joked, her nerves bubbling to the surface.

"Fuck no," Aurélien scoffed, standing up then leaning in to kiss her nose. "I’ve got you, mon cœur. Always."

She rolled her eyes but felt her cheeks warm at his words. With Aurélien’s patient guidance, she managed to make it down the bunny slope without falling too many times, and by the end of their practice session, she was laughing so hard that her sides ached.

Senait and Jules had opted for snowboarding, and they moved together with an ease that spoke of unspoken understanding. There was a connection between them that couldn’t be denied. Senait caught Zuri’s eye at one point, and they shared a grin, both of them feeling the joy of the moment.

Jude and Lila, on the other hand, had ventured further up the mountain, their playful banter echoing through the air as they raced each other down the slope. When they finally rejoined the group, Lila was breathless and giggling, while Jude wore a triumphant smirk.

"I totally won," Jude declared, though Lila was quick to argue.

"No way! You cheated, and you know it!" she accused, her laughter spilling out as she playfully smacked his arm.

Watching them, Zuri felt a contentment settle over her. There was something magical about being surrounded by love and friendship, especially during the holiday season.

________________________________

The next day, Before Lila and Jude headed to the airport for his family’s Christmas celebration in Norway, the group had planned a special late lunch at a charming mountain restaurant, complete with twinkling lights and a roaring fireplace. Zuri had dressed in a velvet green dress that hugged her curves, and Aurélien couldn’t stop staring.

Much later that night, as Zuri and Aurélien lay in bed, tangled in each other’s arms, she felt a deep sense of gratitude. This year had been a whirlwind, full of highs and lows, but it had led her here, to this moment, with the man she loved.

Aurélien kissed her forehead, his voice soft in the darkness. "Merry Christmas Eve, mon amour."

Zuri smiled, her heart full. "Merry Christmas Eve, Aurélien."

And as the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing Megève in its gentle embrace, Zuri knew that this Christmas would be one she’d cherish forever.

THE END........

PLEASE CHECK OUT IN BETWEEN THE LINES FOR JULES & SENAIT'S STORY BUT HERE'S SOMETHING FIRST.....

June 2030

The morning sun streamed into the room, casting a golden glow over Aurélien and Zuri as they lay entangled in each other’s arms, the remnants of their passion still heavy in the air. Zuri, now seven months pregnant with their second child, tried to catch her breath, smiling at the way Aurélien’s fingers traced patterns over the swell of her belly. He kissed her shoulder, his lips warm against her skin, and grinned.

"You’re insatiable, you know that?" Zuri teased, her voice breathy but amused.

Aurélien chuckled, pressing another kiss to her neck. "I can’t help it. You’re beautiful like this." His hands gently cupped her belly, and she rolled her eyes at his shameless adoration.

"Right," she replied, laughing softly. "Enjoy it while you can, because after this one, I’m done. Two is the limit."

Aurélien gave her a mock-horrified look. "We’ll see," he teased, but Zuri playfully smacked his chest, making him laugh again.

______________________________________________

"Eti, please don’t give Mama and Papa any trouble today," Zuri begged as she finished packing the diaper bag. Aurélien walked in, effortlessly lifting their wriggling son and planting kisses on his chubby cheeks, eliciting a giggle from the baby.

"Ready to go?" Aurélien asked, his tone full of the practiced patience of a seasoned dad.

Zuri nodded, her fingers trailing over her bump. "Let’s hope Eti behaves for Uncle Jude and Auntie Lila."

Yet, as fate would have it, the drive to Lewis' Tuscan villa was interrupted by a major blowout. They’d suspected it might happen, which is why Eti wasn’t in his little wedding suit yet. By the time they changed him in the car, both parents were laughing and shaking their heads in disbelief.

"Alright, second outfit of the day," Zuri declared, her voice dry with humor.

Inside, Zuri was greeted with the familiar chaos of a wedding day, and an hour after they arrived, her son had another blowout. She cradled Eti as they navigated through the villa, finally arriving at the groom's room, where Jude and his groomsmen were making last-minute preparations. She paused just outside, bumping into Lila's maid of honor, Jade, who was rushing by.

"Hey, Zuri!" Jade called, then noticed Eti's situation. "Oh no, another one?"

"Would you mind?" Zuri asked, nodding towards her son.

"Of course not. Come here, sweet boy," Jade cooed, taking Eti. "I'll watch him while you talk to the guys."

Zuri then poked her head into the groom's room, spotting Jude among his groomsmen. All the guys were dressed in their tuxes, the room thick with cigar smoke and laughter. She made a beeline to her husband and whispered in his ear.

"Another blowout?" Aurélien asked, kissing his teeth in exasperation. "I'll be right back. Eti had another blowout."

"Damn, what are you guys feeding him?" Trent joked, adjusting his bow tie.

"Seriously," Jobe added with a laugh. "Give him some medicine or something. Poor lil' dude has to have tummy issues."

Zuri was about to follow her husband out when Jude caught her wrist. "How's Li doin'?" he asked, nervous energy radiating off him.

She folded her arms over her bump, giving him a pointed look. "No, I can't tell you anything."

"What? Not even if she's okay?" Jude deployed those puppy dog eyes that probably worked wonders on Lila. "Please, Zu, just tell me."

"Fine," she groaned dramatically, leaning in closer. "She's eating... and crying because your Mum gifted her something blue. It was your grandmother's earrings."

"At least she's eating," Jude mused.

"Yeah... weird stuff too... like she's—" Zuri stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Jude's face. She leaned in to whisper, "She's pregnant?"

Jude's smug grin was all the confirmation she needed.

"Wow, wasted no time, did you?" she teased, though she couldn't hide her surprise.

"They both have my last name, so it doesn't matter," Jude shrugged, still grinning.

Zuri shook her head, laughing softly as she left the room. Trust these two to start their family before they even made it down the aisle. But then again, who was she to judge? She found Aurélien holding a wriggling Eti while thanking Jade profusely for watching him.

"Two blowouts already," Zuri gave a tired but amused sigh. "He's determined to make today memorable."

Jade laughed. "It wouldn't be a family event without some chaos."

They found a bathroom and changed Eti into a plain shirt and chinos, deciding to fully forgo the suit. As Aurélien gave him some medicine to settle his stomach, he shook his head. "Maybe those strawberries for breakfast weren't such a good idea."

"We should probably make an appointment with Dr. Martinez when we get back to Madrid," Zuri mused as they left the bathroom, watching their son's face for any sign of discomfort.

"Hey, Jules and Senait are here," he said, nodding down the hallway.

Senait's face was flushed, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. At five months pregnant with her and Jules' first child, she was visibly emotional. Jules' face had concern etched into his features as he tried to soothe her.

"What happened?" Zuri asked, rushing over.

Senait sniffled. "I wanted a chocolate bar from that shop we loved in Florence, but they're out. And it's not available anywhere else in Italy!"

"Oh honey," Zuri pulled her into a hug, careful of her bump. "Pregnancy cravings are the worst."

"It's not just cravings," Senait hiccupped. "I wanted to share it with the baby. Tell them about our first trip to Florence, how their papa scored the winning goal that night."

Zuri bit back a laugh, exchanging a knowing look with Aurélien. "Hey, they've got some amazing snacks in Lila's room," she said, wrapping her arm around Senait. "Go on, I promise it'll make you feel better."

Senait nodded, allowing herself to be comforted, and made her way to Lila's room, leaving Jules and Aurélien to talk. The men shared a chuckle, with Jules shaking his head in disbelief. "Pregnancy, man. Never a dull moment."

Aurélien smiled, his eyes drifting back to Zuri. "Tell me about it." He adjusted Eti, who was now babbling happily, oblivious to the chaos he'd caused.

"I'm taking Eti to the groom's room," Aurélien informed Zuri, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Zuri watched them leave, her heart swelling with love. Despite the mishaps and the stress, there was a deep sense of peace she felt in moments like these. Her family was her world, and as she made her way to check on Lila one last time, she couldn't help but think about how blessed they all were to share in this day.

Lila was fussing over the final details of her dress, looking every bit the fairytale bride and Senait was in much better spirits.

"Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life," Senait admitted softly from the couch. "Barcelona, Jules, the baby... if you'd told me six years ago this is where I'd end up..."

"You'd have run screaming in the opposite direction?" Lila supplied.

"Probably."

"And now look at you," Zuri stepped in and squeezed her hand. "Living your dream life with your dream man, growing your dream baby."

Tear welled up in Senait's eyes. "Stop, I just fixed my makeup."

"Blame the hormones," Lila suggested cheerfully.

A knock at the door interrupted their laughter. Jules poked his head in, his expression softening when he saw his wife surrounded by snacks and friends.

"Better?" he asked.

Senait nodded, holding out her hand. He crossed the room to take it, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Guess what?" Zuri heard him murmur to Senait. "Aurélien made some calls. That chocolate shop? They're sending a box directly to Barcelona. Should be there when we get home."

Tears spilled from Senait's eyes. "I love you," she said to Jules.

"Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur." Jules' hand found her bump. "Both of you."

Zuri's heart swelled at their tender exchange. Sometimes, her friends could be too adorable for words.

"And on that disgustingly sweet note," Lila announced, making every stare at her, "I need to finish getting ready. I have a wedding to star in."

The bridal stylist jumped in at that moment and helped Lila with her veil.

When she was done, Zuri placed a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. "You look so perfect," she whispered, her eyes taking in the custom Zuhair Murad gown that fitted Lila exquisitely.

Lila smiled, her eyes glistening. "Thanks, Zu. I just can't believe this is finally happening."

Zuri smiled, her hand resting protectively over her bump. "Believe it, girl. This is your moment."

_____________________________________________

Looking around the small, recently renovated church at the edge of Lewis' Tuscan estate, Zuri couldn't help but smile. It had been six years since Jude first fell in love with Lila, and now here they were. The white roses and silk drapery seemed to glow in the Italian sunlight, the entire setting as romantic as anyone could dream.

Her hand rested on her bump as she thought about her own journey. Aurélien's proposal in late 2025, their wedding in 2026, deciding to wait for kids until she felt ready. Now here they were, expecting their second while Eti, safely nestled in Jules' arms in the crowd, kept them on their toes. So much had happened in those years - Aurélien's Ballon d'Or, France's Euro and World Cup victories, and her own success in building one of Madrid's most respected boutique influencer marketing agencies. Life had unfolded in ways she never could have imagined when she first arrived in Madrid.

The sound of "Ave Maria" starting pulled her from her thoughts. It was time. As she stood in her place with the other bridesmaids, Zuri caught Aurélien's eye across the aisle where he stood with the other groomsmen. He winked at her, and her heart swelled just as it had the first time they met. She watched as Anthony walked Lila down the aisle, tears streaming down his face, barely able to speak when the priest asked who gave this woman away. Lewis had to step forward to comfort their father, and Zuri felt her own eyes welling up at the emotion of it all.

Some arrangements might start unconventionally, but they could still lead to the most beautiful love stories. Looking at Jude and Lila exchanging their vows, at Lewis’ three daughters, at her own growing family, Zuri knew this to be true. Love had its own timeline, its own way of working things out.

______________________________________

six months later…..

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over their Madrid home's garden, transformed for Zulaika's naming ceremony. Aurélien watched with pride as Zuri, dressed in vibrant traditional fabric, spoke confidently in Bamum and French, directing the preparations with an ease that made his heart swell.

This was a far cry from the uncertain woman he'd met six years ago. Now she commanded respect effortlessly, switching between languages as she consulted with Elder Nkeng and greeted arriving family members.

Mamie Adzoa, Zuri's grandmother, hadn't stopped beaming since she arrived from Cameroon, constantly cooing at four-month-old Zulaika in her arms. The sight reminded Aurélien of Etienne's ceremony - how nervous they'd both been then, first-time parents trying to honor traditions while navigating modern life.

"Your wife has grown into her heritage beautifully," Elder Nkeng commented to Aurélien in Bamum, nodding approvingly as Zuri organized the ceremonial elements.

Amina, Zuri's mother, was directing the food preparation, while Malik and his wife Brynn struggled to keep their twins from disrupting the carefully arranged offerings. The boys had been much smaller at Etienne's ceremony, barely walking. Now they were energetic four-year-olds, fascinated by their new baby cousin.

As Elder Nkeng began the blessing, bestowing Zulaika with her ceremonial name - Ngouenet, meaning "blessed gift" - Aurélien caught Zuri's eye. They'd already planned their next trip to Cameroon, waiting until Zulaika turned nine months and completed her vaccinations. Just like they'd done with Eti, they would introduce their daughter to her ancestral homeland.

The ceremony blended traditional elements with modern touches - ancient Bamiléké blessings alongside contemporary celebrations. It was a perfect reflection of their family: rooted in tradition but growing into something uniquely their own.

"Photos!" Brynn called out, corralling her twins. Aurélien stood next to Zuri, who held Zulaika while Etienne stood in front of them. Mamie Adzoa insisted on being seated in front next to her great-grandchildren, her face glowing with pride.

"En français!" someone called.

"Non, en Bamum!" another voice contested.

"Just smile!" Malik laughed.

After the formal photos, Aurélien pulled Zuri close, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss. Malik's twins made exaggerated gagging sounds while the adults chuckled.

"I love you," Aurélien murmured against her lips.

Zuri's eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. "I love you more," she replied, then added in Bamum, "Forever and always."

Watching their families blend together - his parents chatting with Mamie Adzoa through a mix of gestures and translated phrases, their children being doted on by relatives from both sides - Aurélien felt complete. This was everything he never knew he needed until Zuri walked into his life.

#emjayewrites #aurelien tchouameni #aurelien tchouameni x zuri awanto nchang #aurelien tchouameni x black oc #aurelien tchouameni x reader #real madrid fanfic #footballer x black reader #footballer x reader #fouled by fate

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akazzzaa · 3 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/akazzzaa/735420461183270912/kokushibo

Child!y/n: Sit! We’re gonna play! Tea party!!

Upper moons in makeup: of course.

SO SORRY FOR NOT BEING ACTIVE, I HAVE NO MOTIVATION TO WRITE BUT I WANT TO WRITE *cries*

I love this! I started writing a story on AO3 with child reader and then growing up being raised by the uppermoons but then I deleted it :( Maybe ill figure out a plot i like and stick to it ... maybe... or keep it going here?

Part one|| Part two(Here)||

Muzan stood in the center within the Infinity Castle, his sharp eyes scanning the space with a meticulous gaze. The table, stretched long and grand before him, had been carefully prepared for the occasion. At the very end of the table, Y/N sat eagerly, her legs swinging from her seat, her bright, wide eyes filled with excitement as she looked at the range of treats and the decorations that filled the space. The child, appeared completely at ease in this otherwise terrifying setting.

Muzan had ordered everything to be perfect for Y/N’s tenth birthday. Despite the thought of celebrating anything—let alone a child’s birthday—being utterly beneath him, he indulged in the extravagance, driven by the strange affection he had for her. It was a sentiment he couldn’t fully understand, but one he could never ignore. This child, his chosen one, had become a part of him in ways even he couldn’t articulate.

Nakime, ever the loyal demon, moved swiftly at Muzan’s side. Her ethereal, almost ghostly presence made the preparations seem effortless. She set down platters of exquisite, finely decorated cakes—cream-covered confections that were as decadent as they were grotesque in their origins. Fresh fruits—delicately arranged, almost artistically—filled another platter. Muzan looked down at the spread with mild distaste, but he didn’t comment.

"Is it all set?" Muzan muttered, his voice low, carrying the weight of authority.

Nakime nodded as she carefully adjusted the position of the plates. She placed a few beautifully wrapped boxes beside the table—items Muzan thought might be appreciated by someone like Y/N, though he couldn't quite understand why such trivial things mattered to her. As Nakime finished, Muzan’s gaze lingered over the arrangement, his cold, calculating eyes betraying no emotion.

"It’s ready," he said, almost to himself. "Now we wait."

Nakime’s eye flickered for a moment as she strummed her biwa. The sound echoed through the hall, signalling the arrival of the Upper Moons.

The doors to the hall creaked open, and Nakime’s voice rang out. "The Upper Moons are here, Lord Muzan," she announced with a slight bow.

The first to enter was Kokushibo, his six eyes surveying the room with an unreadable expression. The stoic Upper Moon One barely seemed fazed by the human food arranged on the table, though his nose twitched at the sharp, sickly-sweet scent that filled the air.

"Disgusting," Kokushibo muttered under his breath, but his tone held no real disdain—just a resigned understanding that this was the nature of Y/N’s world. He moved past the table with a respectful nod toward Y/N at the far end, though his gaze lingered briefly on her, almost as if trying to discern the strange warmth she brought to the room. He took his seat with precision, ever the formal one.

Next came Douma, his light step and exuberant energy immediately filling the room. His usual radiant smile never faltered as he walked in, his voice like a soft melody. "Happy birthday, little one!" he called cheerfully as he waved to Y/N, his gaze full of excitement. He easily settled into his seat near the middle of the table, his bright eyes never straying far from the child at the end of the table.

Akaza was next, his fiery, intense presence arriving with a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. His piercing eyes swept the room, then softened when they landed on Y/N, but he said nothing, simply taking a seat beside Douma. The raw energy around him still crackled as he folded his arms and settled into his seat, his eyes occasionally flicking to the human food, though his focus was clearly elsewhere.

Hantengu came next, his face twitching nervously as he shuffled into the room. His presence was smaller, more jittery compared to the others, and he gave a soft, almost apologetic look toward Y/N at the end of the table. "I-I-I’m here," he stammered, though his voice was laced with unease. He quickly seated himself far from the others, nearer to the end, his eyes darting around as he anxiously awaited the others to settle.

Gyokko drifted into the room next, his form almost floating. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the table, an expression of distaste clearly written across his face. He slowly made his way to an empty seat farther from Y/N, next to Hantengu his unsettling aura seeming to fill the air, though he said nothing, sitting down in quiet irritation. " You should've come to me to set up the table''

Finally, Daki and Gyutaro entered, their sibling bond unmistakable. Daki’s eyes glimmered with mischievous affection as she glanced at Y/N, who was sitting at the far end of the table. With a dramatic flair, she greeted her, her voice was light, as if she were enjoying the moment for herself. Gyutaro followed closely, his brooding gaze scanning the room briefly before he took his seat beside Daki.

As the last demon settled, Muzan gave a slight nod, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He glanced once more at Y/N, her eager smile not waning, and for a fleeting moment, the dark weight of the Infinity Castle felt lighter.

The Upper Moons sat around the long table. Yet, despite the tension, Y/N’s beaming smile never wavered. She was practically bouncing in her seat, eager to get the celebration started. She looked at the demons sitting around her—each one more terrifying than the last—and her excitement bubbled over.

"Okay!" she said brightly, clapping her hands together. "Since it's my birthday, I wanna do something fun! I have a great idea!"

The Upper Moons exchanged confused and, in some cases, cautious glances. Y/N, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease, continued to bounce in her seat, her eyes twinkling with childlike enthusiasm.

"I want to do all your makeup!" she announced proudly. "I’ve been practicing, and I think it’d be really fun!"

For a moment, there was a pause. The demons were silent, exchanging wary glances, unsure how to respond to such a request. The idea of letting a child—his child, no less—play with their appearance seemed bizarre, even to them. And yet, there was something so innocent and unassuming in Y/N's request that none of them could immediately refuse.

Douma was the first to respond, his wide, innocent grin lighting up his face. "Ooooh! That sounds like so much fun!" He nearly leaped from his seat, already looking forward to whatever Y/N had in mind. "I’ve always wanted to see what I'd look like with a little more colour!" He was practically bouncing in his seat, practically begging her to start.

Akaza, who was sitting with his arms crossed and a serious expression raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. He looked at Y/N, then at the others, his voice gruff but with an underlying amusement. "You really think you can make me look better?" he asked, though it wasn’t a challenge—more of an intrigued curiosity.

Kokushibo, who had been watching in silence, didn’t immediately speak. His gaze was distant, but his six eyes shifted toward Y/N for a moment, blinking slowly. His expression, as always, remained unreadable. He gave a single, soft sigh and leaned back in his chair. "If this is what she wants…" he said in his low, quiet voice. His tone was almost indifferent, but it carried a hint of reluctant amusement. "I will permit it."

Hantengu, already anxious, nearly jumped out of his seat at the thought. "Oh no, I—uh, I’m not sure… What if I don’t like how it turns out? What if it’s too much?" His face began to twitch nervously, overwhelmed by the idea of sitting still long enough for Y/N to work on him. "I-I don’t know if I can handle it…"

Gyokko didn’t look too thrilled, but his expression remained impassive, the only sign of discomfort being the slight twitch of his mouth. He didn’t make an immediate protest, though, his eyes narrowing as he observed the others. "If it must be done," he said with a slight sneer, "I’ll allow it. Just don’t ruin my aesthetic." His voice dripped with disdain, but the word “aesthetic” was far more important to him than the idea of makeup itself.

Daki, ever the beauty-obsessed sibling, was thrilled by the suggestion. She leaned forward eagerly, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh, I love that idea!" she said with a dramatic flip of her hair. "You’re going to make me look even more beautiful, right? Maybe you can give me a little sparkle!" she added, her voice teasing, as if she were fully ready to let Y/N have her way. "I can’t wait to see what you come up with!"

Gyutaro, her brother, gave a gruff grunt. "Whatever, do what you want," he muttered, clearly more interested in the food than the child’s antics. But even he didn’t seem fully opposed to the idea—more resigned, as though he had already accepted the absurdity of the situation.

Muzan, who had been watching the exchange with a cold, calculating gaze, looked over at Y/N. His expression softened, just barely, as he took in the joy on her face. "If you wish to do this," he said, his voice even, "then proceed." His words carried the quiet authority of a man who gave little thought to something as trivial as makeup—but he allowed it because it made her happy, and that was all that mattered.

And so, with everyone reluctantly or eagerly consenting, Y/N was ready to begin. She stood up from her seat, her energy practically radiating as she gathered up the small assortment of makeup items she had brought with her. There were brushes, some face powders, blushes, eye shadows in all the colours of the rainbow, and even some glittery lip gloss she had carefully chosen for each of them.

Y/N moved to the first demon, Douma, who was practically giddy with excitement. He sat perfectly still, his bright, eager eyes locked on her as she carefully dusted some light foundation over his face. "Ooh, this feels so soft!" Douma commented, his voice lilting with delight. "It’s like a spa treatment!" His excitement was infectious, and Y/N beamed, feeling an unspoken warmth between them.

Next was Akaza, who sat stiffly, though he allowed her to work on him. She carefully applied a bit of blush to his face, giggling at how ridiculous it looked on him. Akaza stared at himself in a nearby mirror, clearly trying to keep a serious expression, but his lips quivered in the smallest of smiles. "I never thought I’d get a makeover," he muttered, glancing at Y/N with a slight smirk. "I’ve got to admit… it's kind of fun."

Kokushibo, though still silent and stoic, was next in line. Y/N didn’t dare put too much on his face, knowing he might not appreciate it, but she carefully applied a subtle dusting of powder, just enough to make him look "softer," as she put it. She stood back for a moment, admiring her work, and Kokushibo gave her a rare, almost imperceptible nod of approval.

As Y/N moved from one demon to the next, applying light eyeshadow to Gyokko and a touch of lip gloss to Daki, the atmosphere lightened ever so slightly. Hantengu, who had been nervously shifting in his seat, finally allowed Y/N to apply a little blush to his cheeks. He looked around, half-panicked, half-relieved, but couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of enjoyment.

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, there was something undeniably joyful about it—a strange moment of vulnerability and warmth in a room full of demons known for their power and terror. Y/N’s pure, untainted happiness created a bubble of peace around the table, even if for just a moment.

"How do I look?" Daki asked, striking a playful pose as Y/N finished with her makeup. Gyutaro gave a gruff glance at his sister, who was now glittering with a touch of sparkle, and muttered, "You look like a kid’s idea of a princess," but even he couldn’t hide a small smirk.

Y/N laughed, her joy infectious. "You all look great! I’m so glad you let me do it!"

#demon slayer #kny #kny x reader #gyutaro x reader #kimitsu no yaiba #akaza x reader #douma x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #kokushibo x reader #daki x reader #kny daki #gyokko x reader #gyokko #hantengu x reader #hantengu

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universalzones · 1 day ago

Text

"Since you're so obsessed with freedom how about you give me the freedom to do what I want with my life. If it involved turning myself over to GUN then I'm going to do it." Surge had data that Sonic had always pushed for freedom, though seeing it in actions made it came of as some sort of obsession, at least to her. "Besides, I gotta clear Kit. I get arrested, tell them Kit had nothing to do with the town attacks or anything, and you back that up. Hard to deny two people saying the same thing."

"I personally don't know much about GUN, though if this is how they normally act then I agree with Sonic," Belle said, which earned her a death glare from Surge making her take a step back. "Though I completely respect your choice and have nothing else to say." The tinkerer doubt she could even say anything to convince the tenrec anyway. Though her attention went to the speakers along with the other speedsters. Why did she get the feeling this wouldn't stop Surge?

"I ain't going, so you can have fun. I'm going to dash my happy ass over to the check point and stand right in front of it. Dare them to attack and see what happens. They want to be all big and threatening let's see if they can handle someone like me staring at them right in the face." Surge then dashed off, kicking up a fair amount of dust as she did so.

Belle was quick to stand in front of Sonic. "Please, don't chase after her. It sounds like she isn't going to attack them first, and it's not the worse idea. If they're only on standby until Lanolin gives the word we're standing down then they shouldn't attack Surge. Having her just standing at the check point and looking scary isn't that bad." The tinkerer was clearly used to the hedgehogs impulsiveness to be so quick to stand in front of him.

"We'll see what Lanolin wants first, and hope there's a plan to at least leave peacefully. Besides, it'll give you a chance to talk things over with Tails and see if he has a good idea, right?" Belle wasn't sure how much Sonic was willing to listen to her, though was sure he'd listen to Tails much better. "And yes, I could use a ride. Even if I might feel a bit sick afterwards," she said, holding out her hand. Moving at the speed of sound wasn't a fun experience, though it was only a short run and they were short on time.

===========================================================

"Not an option to add that upgrade right now. My hydrokinesis is more of a chaos skill, and while I can control water outside of my pack its not as good because when I suck water into my back the chaos drive inside pumps it with chaos energy. This allows me to control it a lot better. Though to slowly add at a time would require more power to be used, and that'd deplete the chaos driver faster. That's why I always add the water to my pack first before using it." Kitsunami didn't expect Miles to know that, though didn't want his input.

"Not to mention we just want to look tough, not like we're gearing from battle. If the numbers suddenly double it might make GUN more hostile. The turrets are stationary so if they see more it'll just make them nervous at best." Kitsunami didn't want to put too much pressure on GUN as they could easily backfire on them. The fennec then looked hearing Lanolin request quite a few people to the command center.

"Just get the holograms set up and then head to the command center. It shouldn't take that long as I doubt you'll set up that much." Kitsunami was just guessing with that one, though wouldn't be surprised if Miles didn't have that many on his person. "I'll go on ahead." The fennec's not so subtle way to get away from the vulpine. He was dealing with it so far, though really didn't like being around him. With all that said he left and began making his way to the command center.

Honestly? Listening to Surge's plan it wasn't as awful as she made it out to be. her intent was to give herself up no matter what right? So if that was the plan, one last hurrah wasn't awful if he was being pragmatic. Did he like it? No, of course not! He hated the idea of her giving up her freedom to anyone! But she was pretty set on it and if it allowed them plausible deniability then it was a way forward. Even if he was sure it was also an excuse for her to have one last shot at him. She was as eager to throw hands with him as he was to throw hands with her... weird how that worked wasnt it? As for the soldiers they weren't sure what to think. Most of them didn't look ready for a real fight with GUN.

" You are right i don't like it, but... If we had no choice i guess it's a good plan. I just don't know if GUN will buy it or worse try and take us both out... "

He sighed and gripped his wrist rubbing it as if it was sore

" I still think this is a whacked out idea, you giving yourself up and all... Belle will agree with me i'm sure! Giving yourself up to GUN no matter the good intentions is bound to be bad for you... i know you are dead set on this--- but i wanna say it one last time! there has to be a better way..."

Surge wouldn't even get a chance to respond before Lanolin came over the intercom. Calling Sonic, and the others back to the Command center. Which had sonic looking up at a nearby speaker. This was either Lanolin having a killer idea, or bad news for everyone. Sonic was leaning toward bad news... he just felt it in his gut.

" Looks like we might not get a say either way... you need a lift Belle? i bet she'd want you there to..."

He'd hold his hand out to Belle offering to take her to the command center with him. Either way it seemed like this was the end game, either they pulled out victory or GUN Won and restoration came crashing down.

===============================================

Miles tried to ignore how displeased Kit was with calling him his friend. That said he didn't intend to stop calling him that, he wanted to be Kit's friend. But seemed like no matter what he did they'd always be enemies. Chaos was he pulling a Sonic on this one? He didn't want to think about it. But Kit was right about seeing through the holograms but the idea was just to buy them time to form a counter offensive.

" You aren't wrong a sharp eye can see through them, but its meant more to just make the enemy pause. This is a deterrent after all not a means of attack. "

He tapped his chin and slowly looked up to the roof

" As for water... if things do get dicey we can set off the sprinklers. That should flood the room with water and give you enough offense to push back any attack. Heh you ever thought about hydroscopic water filtration for your pack? is always water in the air, you could probably pull water in that way, slowly refilling your pack over time. "

The head Nurse only smiled at the two seeing the tension and fidgeting with her Wispeon. She let the two speak before placing a hand on her hip and speaking up with a cheerful tone!

" Why holograms? I can alwaos duplicate more of myself! i can do around 200 at max... though that's stressing myself a bit. The more i create the less intelligent the copies become. but if you just need me to stand around and look intimidating... we can do that! Though i'd prefer not getting myself killed as it were--- i kind of remember when that happens... its not pleasant. "

She squeaked as if remembering several moments her copies died, and she had to deal with the consequences. Miles figured anything the copy experienced she also experienced. So they were probably a sort of hive mind, the more copies there were, the more connections she made the more of her was spread out among the copies. So this was how Altiss kept his base safe--- his nurse was a real power house when you thought about it from a numbers game. Though clearly she was acting brave, and probably not a good fighter.

" Neat... i gotta say that's a killer gift... but let's not put you in more danger then your in. Plus, you have patients to care for to... let's just stick to holograms... unless we need the extra firepower. "

Miles stopped as the intercom went live, and Lanolins message went out calling all of them to the command center. He gave Kit a glance wondering what changed but, guessed they should grab the belle bot and head to the command center. though he hoped Dawn and the others would be ok till they returned.

" Guess Lanolin is up to something... might as well put our plans on hold for now... "

#atangledfate #Surge the Tenrec #speed of lightning brawler #Belle the Tinkerer #gentle puppet tinkerer #Kitsunami the Fennec #nervous shaking water #rp #ic #IDW Sonic

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mc-lukanette · 8 hours ago

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"Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody. You've been the song stuck in my head since the day we first met."

Luka meant every word of it. He hadn't known Marinette for long but he knew people. Whether one called it intuition, a sixth sense, or nothing more than a "feeling," he didn't care. Marinette was a special girl and anyone who didn't know didn't understand her. It was the way she talked, the way she laughed, and even the way she was constantly stumbling over herself because she cared so much about others.

He felt it in her designs and had seen the process himself, how she would sit in the same spot for hours until someone snapped her out of it. He wore his Kitty Section costume proudly because of it and swore that it made him play better, just by having a piece of her with him.

That was all he needed, as far as he was concerned. Whether she loved him or not was irrelevant, and he only confessed at all in the first place because he wanted to alleviate whatever doubts she'd had. He was just happy to know her and to be called her friend.

She looked so beautiful against the colorful stage lights too. Had he not needed to leave, he might've told her so. He only hoped she wouldn't run off to let them take all the credit if there were any interviews afterward. She was just as big a part of the band as he was.

He smiled and released her shoulder, turning around to face the stage where he was set to play with the others. He took one step, two steps—

and then his wrist was snagged, pulling him back. He tried to keep his balance, especially as another hand grabbed at his jacket to bring him downwards. Everything was happening too fast, his vision only able to register the blur that was Marinette's face coming towards him.

Heat flooded his system as her lips came into contact with his skin, just to the side of his mouth. She'd kissed him on the cheek before, but that had come off entirely friendly as opposed to the one she'd given him now.

"Worse" still was that he knew she'd missed her intended target in her rush, which was definitely not his cheek.

It was over too soon, but he registered the voices behind him calling him to the stage as Marinette let him go and pulled away. Despite the bold move, she looked away sheepishly and cleared her throat, her blush obvious even in the lighting.

"U-um... good luck?" she said, giving him a fluttery wave.

His shoes felt like they were filled with very selective lead, keeping him firmly in place unless he was moving towards her specifically. Alas, his bandmates were still calling and not going would've ruined all the effort Marinette had put into getting them to this point.

Thus, he turned - for real this time - and went to set up with the others.

—————

Luka somehow managed to concentrate throughout the entire performance. The nice thing about his Kitty Section mask was that he could look around freely without being noticed, particularly at the siren of a girl standing in the background watching his every move. Her fingers were steepled in front of her mouth, making it hard to gauge her exact expression, but her eyes never left his.

Each note he played felt like a pleasant shock through his body, a positive feedback loop that kept going throughout the whole song. It'd happened before when he was in a good mood, playing his feelings through the strings, but not like this.

Not after being kissed by the one he was in love with, and not on a stage where the energy surrounding him was so high. Whenever he turned to the other bandmates, they were staring at him in bewilderment, but not in any bad way. He wasn't overshadowing them or throwing off the song, he was just more of what was already there, and the stage crew was getting into it.

It was fantastic.

By the time everything was over and the recording was done, there was nothing stopping him anymore. He wordlessly passed his guitar to a confused Rose, then walked off the stage, past the crew, and past a reporter who had snuck in and was asking him questions he didn't bother listening to. He pushed his mask up and took a straight path directly towards Marinette, who was bouncing from the thrill of the moment.

"That was incredible, Luka!" she squealed. "It sounded even better than in the video! People are going to love it, I—"

He grabbed her face and kissed her. It momentarily occurred to him that he could've said something romantic like, "I only played so well because you were there," which was true, but kissing her the way she'd tried to kiss him seemed like a far more appropriate response to what she'd done.

It felt equivalent to getting to play a song she'd written just for him, which was almost a shame. Had he known she could've made noises like she was just by him kissing her, he would've suggested a different type of song for the music video.

There was a shriek in the background that was probably Rose, which he paid no mind to. He broke the kiss, but remained hunched over to Marinette's level, still holding her blushing face and cherishing the warmth against his palms.

"Did you love it?" he asked quietly, stroking her cheeks. "That's all I care about."

Her voice had raised an octave when she replied, "O-of course? I said it was incredible! I love you—it! A lot!"

She managed to fit her hands between his, covering her face with an embarrassed whine. He sighed blissfully, dropping his hands to wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her shoulder.

"I can't believe you tried to kiss me," he began, then added even though he could've left it at that, "right before I had to go on stage."

"Sorry," came the muffled apology behind her hands, though he smirked when he caught the hint of not actually being sorry in her voice. She returned his embrace, squeezing and shaking a little as she whispered, "I should've done it sooner."

When Luka had thought just a few minutes ago that he would've been perfectly happy just getting to know Marinette and be her friend, he meant it, but he wasn't about to complain about being thrice as perfectly happy either.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #episode: Silencer

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hydrangeapartridge · 8 hours ago

Text

Overindulging (EmmRook short fic)

Summary: Emmrich gets upset because he put on a little weight. Rook is here to reassure him.

The first part is mostly sfw, I signaled the moment we switch to a more heated (E-rated) exchange, please mind it.

Part of my EmmRook post game (so may contain spoilers) short-fics found here on AO3 (or on my blog with the Emmrich x Rook tag).

Rook was absentmindedly getting dressed when a very highpitched, scandalized noise startled her. It wasn’t coming from veyr far away, and she only needed to turn around to find Emmrich staring intently at his midsection, his fingers frozen over the buttons of the waistcoat he was fastening. It was his favourite one, the green one with the golden buttons.

« Darling » He called out to her, distress clear in his voice. He looked up to meet her eyes, sadness mixed with frustration in his warm brown gaze. « It doesn’t fit anymore » He stated, and indeed, Rook could see the first two buttons were fastened but the effort of it was dangerously straining the fabric. As for the last one, it would be impossible to fasten without tearing the lovely piece of clothing and ruining it.

« Well I suppose you’ll have to wear another one » Rook offered with an apologetic smile. She was ever the optimistic one of the two.

Emmrich sighed in defeat, undoing the hardly fastened buttons in a smooth gesture. However right it was, his lover’s proposition, and the implications behind his failure at getting dressed didn’t sit well with the watcher.

« I knew I had gained a little weight, there are always ups and downs in a year. But I’ve owned this waistcoat for decades and it always fit » He complained, pained and irritated. « Now I’ll have to get my entire wardrobe mended and ajusted... »

Rook stepped closer to her lover and placed a tender hand on his elbow to try and pull him out of the spiral of negativity he was losing himself into.

His slight increase in waist circumference wasn’t a surprise, for they had probably overindulged in the last months when it came to food. Emmrich took a sabbatical so they could undertake a journey around Thedas to reconnect with their former companions of the Veilguard, and check on the reconstruction of the cities destroyed by the Blight.

Those long weeks turned months had been a wonderful succession of heartwarming reunions, all of which of course around generous amounts of food and drinks. Rook and Emmrich had been delighted to discuss with their friends while sharing large meals made of the most delicious dishes, whether grilled, or fried, or covered in rich sauces, as well as around tea-times assorted with the softest buttery and flaky pastry. And not to forget the syrupy wines and bittersweet cocktail. Emmrich wasn’t known for his gluttony, but he still really enjoyed a good meal, as well as the cultural enlightment of discovering local dishes. On the way home, he kept reminiscing the taste of the famous llomerryn red sauce from Rivain or the Gnocchi from Antiva.

Pair that with a hectic schedule preventing them from exercising as they usually did, and you got a few more pounds.

It was nothing too serious. Rook herself had gained a little chub around the thighs and waist, but she understood Emmrich’s concerns. He liked to look clean and sharp, and had a strong taste for elegant fashion. All his clothes were also tailor-made and cost a pretty penny, which was an investment he made for the long run. He took very good care of his belongings and she could see why it would upset him to be forced to have them remade.

Rook gently squeezed Emmrich’s elbow. “I’m sure there is no need to come to that yet. A little more exercise and lighter meals should do the trick. You’ll be back in shape in no time”

She tried to reassure him, but Emmrich wasn’t having any of it. He placed a hand over his stomach and squeezed the fat there though the fabric of his expensive white shirt, then clicked his tongue. “I fear it won’t be that simple. Each year staying fit becomes more and more challenging. I’m getting limp and my skin will only keep sagging until I all wrinkled and flaccid. I’ll gradually wilt before your very eyes darling, this is only the start”

Oh.

So that’s what this was about.

Emmrich had partially made peace with his mortality when he brought back Manfred, and he had accepted that Rook loved him and wanted to be with him on the long run despite their difference in age. However his fears and insecurities resurfaced from time to time.

Rook’s heart sank in her chest and she pressed herself against her lover, circling her amrs around his waist, hoping her presence would comfort him better than words would. From experience, she kew that when he was in this state, there was no reasoning with him; no appealing to his usual logic. The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight because of such a trivial problem. Well, trivial to her. They already did fight several times because she brushed off his heartfelt concerns too casually and now she knew better than to lose her temper over this.

Emmrich grew silent, and soon, he hugged Rook back, the palms of his hands pressing against her back.

They stayed in this embrace for a while, Rook listening to his heart while he breathed in the familiar smell of her hair.

“You know I’ll always love you” Rook promised against his chest, and she heard his resulting deep, shaky exhale close to her ear.

“I know darling” He sighed. “It is not my intention to question that… but sometimes it feels surreal” he kissed her temple before he continued. “And sometimes I cannot help but regret that we didn’t meet sooner, or that I wasn’t born later”

Rook looked up to meet his misty gaze, a bittersweet smile on her face. “I understand that sentiment. But I believe things were meant to be this way. I am glad we even got to meet each other. And survived to enjoy the rest”

“Of course, you are absolutely right dearest. I wouldn’t have it any other way” Emmrich caressed her cheek, craddling it in his warm palm. “But the human heart can be weak, and mine is particularly prone to that kind of longing”

Rook nuzzled into his touch “That’s part of why I love you” She stood on her tiptoes, and whispered against his lips “I never hoped to meet such a romantic soul”

She kissed him then, soft and gentle, and he reverently kissed back, both of his hands holding her face like a precious treasure he feared would escape him.

When they pulled back, Rook let the hand that was pressed to his chest travel to his navel. She eyed his reaction carefully, assessing his consent, checking that her touch on the part of him he criticized was still welcomed.

Emmrich didn’t protest, but the attention made him shy, still a bit self conscious, and he distracted himself by replacing a stray lock of hair behind Rook’s ear.

“You are still the most dashing necromancer around you know” Rook said, her usual bright tone returning to her. “And you won’t be alone in your effort. I’ll help. I have a few pounds to lose too”

Emmrich let out an incredulous huff. “Darling there is no need for you to do that. You are simply perfect. Marvelously beautiful as always”

Rook raised an accusing eyebrow and gave him a chastising look which silenced him immediately. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Rook splayed her fingers moree firmly over Emmrich’s lower stomach. “You know, I’m thinking of a pleasant way of exercising…” She whispered wickedly as her hand traveled lower. “I’m sure it burns a lot of fat”

She pressed her palm against Emmrich’s crotch and he let out a small breathy moan.

“Darling, we were just getting dressed” He protested, but only for the principle of it, his voice lacking any resolve.

Rook hummed “But since you were dissatisfied with your clothes, I think it’s better if you don’t wear them at all”

And so Emmrich was quickly convinced to indulge in a different kind of pleasure.

E-RATING STARTING HERE

After a few heated kisses, and unbutonning his shirt, Rook swiftly fell to her knees in front of Emmrich. Without hesitation, she untucked his crisp shirt from his flannel pants first. Her hand deliberatelly brushed his clothed growing erection before she set on undoing the buttons of his trousers.

“Darling” Emmrich tried to grab her attention and she hummed in response but didn’t stop. “As much as I enjoy the view and the promise of your attention, I fail to see how this counts as exercising on my part”

Rook gave his still clothed erection a gentle kiss through the fabric of his underwear. “Consider it a warm up” She hummed “And a way to show you how much I adore every part of you”

Emmrich let out a languid sigh. His fingers moved to brush against her cheek, and played with the hair there while she pulled his pants and underwear enough to find the most sensitive part of him. “Whatever pleases you my dear” He breathed in that lower voice that was reserved just for her; just for these moments shared between them in intimacy. He always ended up indulging her.

Rook took him in one hand, and splayed the fingers of the other over Emmrich’s stomach. She started stroking him to full hardness, while reverantly exploring the dip of his waist, and the more recent softeness of his belly, where a trail of dark hair led to his growing desire. She loved to touch him. Emmrich was a generous lover and was always the one to insist on how gorgeous she was and to focus on making sure of her pleasure. She desperately wanted to reciprocate the favour. Besides, she knew from experience that for all his composure and restreint, a teasing from the mouth should rile him up enough that he would then be most enclined to bend her over any avalaible surface and take her most ardently.

Emmrich’s self consciousness over his stomach became the last of his concerns when she stopped stroking him and started leaving opened mouth kisses on the length of him. He gasped and moaned when she proceeded to take him between her sinful lips, caressing the part that she couldn’t fit in yet between a few fingers.

Rook moaned around him when she felt his hand carefully grab the back of her head, holding ontop her hair without pressure to ground himself and help guide her. She increased the pace of her ministrations as Emmrich’s voice joined the lewd wet noises she was making. True to himself, he kept praising her, complimenting her skills, singing praises of her beauty as she worshipped him with her mouth.

This was incredibly pleasant, but not quite what she had in mind. She pulled away to catch her breath, lazily stroking him instead, the glide made easy from her saliva and his excitement. Her other hand cupped his balls, her heel pressing into his perineum until he was left breathless and flustered. She then moved to squeeze his naked bottom, a part of him that she enjoyed very much indeed. The number of times she was distracted by that ass back in the lighthouse she couldn’t count on the fingers of two hands.

Now that she had rendered Emmrich silent but for ragged whimpers, it was her turn to talk.

“My heart, you focus on the front of your body because that is the first thing you see. But know that the sight of your backside would make anyone both jealous and enticed” She murmured before giving his tip a quick suck, earning a strangled “Darling” from him.

She squeezed his bottom again for good mesure, giving it a small swat as if to make her point “I have seen the way people look at it. Makes me want to burn their eyes in their sockets”

“Darling,I’m sure that’s no-” Emmrich tried to say between heavy pants but interrupted himself, completely losing his train of thoughts when Rook took him into her mouth again, as deep as possible.

Rook smiled around him, prood that she rendered him silent. She used her now both free hands to grab at his backside firmly, using her hold as leverage to try and take him even deeper with each bob of her head.

Emmrich’s hand tightened in her hair, and she moaned delightfully in tune to her lover’s half hearted and whimpered pleas for her to slow down. She could tell that Emmrich was using the last threads of his self control not to thrust into her throat at his own rythm. His thighs were clenching, his knees buckling, she could tell he was losing it.

He was close. But this was far from over yet.

After a wicked swirl of her tongue around him, Rook pulled back, earning a distraught whine from her lover.

She barely wipped her mouth before she got up and proceeded to quickly take off her clothes. Emmrich’s gaze followed the reveal of her bare skin with a distinct hunger. For a second she had rendered him lost as what to do with himself. He stood before her, painfully hard and half dressed, panting and flushed. He looked ravishing; and she wouldn’t give him the leisure of regaining the composure she worked so hard to break.

Rook quickly stepped back into his arms, pressing her naked form flush against his body.

“I think you’ve warmed up enough” She said against his lips, her hand caressing his chest where his shirt was opened. He tried to follow after her lips but she pulled away, instead hiking one leg up his hip. Emmrich’s scattered brain had mere seconds to gather what was expected of him before Rook jumped into his arms, wrapping her beautiful legs around his narrow waist. Emmrich caught her of course, his hands coming to support her backside while she anchored her arms behind his neck.

“Now it is your turn to do all the work” Rook teased, but Emmrich complied.

“Gladly” He breathed before he crashed his lips into Rook’s, his usual finesse lost in the turmoil of his desire.

Rook’s shorter and lighter figure was easy to carry for Emmrich, who possessed more muscles than would be expected of a scholar. In his endevour to age as well as possible, he had adopted a healthy lifestyle consisting of a balanced diet and a lot of exercise. The watcher valued physical form as much as a keen intellect. To fight the rebellious undead of the Necropolis, one needed to stay in shape. Also, Rook learned when they met that necromancers from Nevarra enjoyed friendly tornaments of battle magic and took pride in winning them if possible. Emmrich had his pride, and trained so he would easily prevail if a student or colleague dared challenge him.

Rook remembered feeling both surprised and weirdly aroused the first time Emmrich twisted the limbs of a Venatori cultist with a florish of his wrist, and then proceeded to send him flying with a powerful strike of his heavy staff. To think she first considered him a delicate scholar when they met, and even hesitated bringing him to the field. How wrong she had been, and how she then had put that strength to good use.

Rook wasn’t too heavy, but to perform the activities they had fallen into, they needed more stability. While he kept kissing his lover, Emmrich walked to the nearest wall and proceeded to carefully press Rook’s back against it. The support the wall offered allowed him to free one of his hands. He held Rook around the waist with one arm, and while his lips went down to explore the delicious column of her neck, his free hand traced a path from her clavicle to her breast, where he focused his attention. He squeezed and pressed just the way she liked, without forgetting to give attention to her already erected nipple. Rook’s head fell back into the wall as an abandonned moan escaped her lips when his mouth replaced his fingers on her chest. In an impressive exercise of multi-tasking and balance, Emmrich’s hand travelled lower, testing the state of arousal of his lover. She could see the bicep of the arm holding her tensing under the strain of her weight, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight. That sight only could have made her ready for him.

To only Emmrich’s surprise, Rook was soaking wet already. He collected some moisture on his index finger still, and proceeded to pet her clit for good mesure. Rook closed her eyes under his expert ministrations, but she shook her head when he started teasing her folds and her entrance.

“Please my heart, I need you now”

To think she planned on being the patient one today. Emmrich’s lips traveled back to her neck, then cheek, and stopped to kiss and nip at her sensitive ear.

“Who am to deny you when you find yourself in such distress dearest” He purred, low and assertive before he blew on her wet and tender ear, making her gasp and shamelessly grind against his erection.

Rook admired the display of Emmrich’s strength as he repositionned her to align her center with his aching need. She was vulnerable and opened, her legs brought up against the inside of his elbow, her ankles thrown over his shoulders and her weight supported by both the wall and Emmrich’s long fingers grabbing her hip dips, her lower back mostly fitting into his large palms.

He entered her slowly, making sure she was comfortable. The sight was delightfully exciting: Emmrich still half dressed taking her naked form, the muscles of his broad shoulders and of his arms flexing to hold her in place as he penetrated her.

A first tentative thrust and then Emmrich pressed flush against Rook, bending her in half and trapping her against the wall while his cock caressed her insides. She felt impossibly full and deliciously stretched, forced to take him without moving; losing the ability to form a coherent sentence from the raw pleasure of it all.

Rook’s moans were loud and unrestrained as Emmrich took her against the wall, deep and slow. Even when pent up, he still was one to make groundbreaking love and not copulate like animals. He did slip a few times however, thrusting harder as he lost a bit of control the more Rook tightened and gushed around him.

Tears wet her eyelashes from how good it all felt, the sensations heightened by the praises Emmrich’s velvet tongue kept drowning her in. He breathily told her about the marvelous display she offered, akin to a nymph straight from an Orlesian painting; a perfect portrayal of a godess of pleasure and lushness. He fed her poetry as sweet as honey while ravishing her with impossibly accurate assaults of her most sensitive places, reaching impossibly deep in this position.

Rook left herself get lost in the pleasure he offered, and soon, as he told her he would hold her like this forever, make love to her endlessly, she choked on trying to tell him how much she loved him, whimpering instead while clenching down on him like a vice, coming around him in a raw display of bliss, tears of ecstasy rolling down her cheeks.

Gradually, Emmrich slowed down until his hips came to a stop. He reclined a little and pressed a few amourous kisses on Rook’s wet cheeks.

Rook’s chest was still rising and falling rapidly when she regained the ability the think properly. Her previously hazy eyes found Emmrich’s warm brown ones.

“I love you” She whispered in a laboured breath as if it was the most important and fitting conclusion to this exchange.

Emmrich chuckled, amused and proud of himself for rendering Rook almost speechless “I love you too dearest”

He released her trembling legs so she could get them around his waist again. She hugged him tight while he held her by two hands under her backside, gently rocking her until she regained her footing.

After a while, Rook perked up, blinking away the haze in her mind only to realize something. She looked between them, where he was still hard against her. “You didn’t-” She started, looking to Emmrich. “What about you?” She asked, dejected. She wanted this to be about him and it ended up being about her again.

Emmrich’s chuckle was low and pleasing to her ears. “I believe I ought to prolonge the effort for the exercise to truly be efficient on burning calories.” He said, a mysterious smile on his thin lips. “A ratio of three to one should suffice for today don’t you think?”

Rook blinked owlishly. She had no clue what he was talking about.

Emmrich let her think about it, amused by her airheaded state. He took a step back, then turned and walked to their bed where he carefully dropped Rook on her backside on the silken covers.

“What ratio are we talking about?” Rook asked as Emmrich caught her leg by the ankle and brought it to his lips for a tender kiss to her malleolus.

“Orgasms of course darling. One for me after three for you” Emmrich replied like it was the most obvious of things. His assertive brown gaze pinned Rook down, making her feel like a meal on display. “If you’d be kind enough to help me keep on exercising of course” He added lowly, in that tone that made her wet without being touched.

Rook inhaled sharply, feeling herself ready to go again. She couldn’t possibly refuse such an offer.

“Well, I did say I’d help…”

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