#this isn’t an interview it’s coffee and a chat

[vers-1]

OH NO OH NO IM FREAKING OUT

I’m afraid someone help me

[pucksandpower]

Newsflash

Charles Leclerc x reporter!Reader

Summary: after two years as a paddock correspondent, you’re convinced that Charles Leclerc hates your guts for no apparent reason … but maybe everything is not what it seems

“Wake up, Y/N. It’s race day!”

Your colleague, Natalie, bursts into your hotel room without knocking, as usual. You groan and pull the covers over your head, not ready to face the chaos that is sure to ensue in the paddock.

“Come on, sleepyhead! We have to be at the track by seven this morning for pre-race meetings,” Natalie says, yanking the duvet off you.

“Alright, alright, I’m up!” You grumble, slowly swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it anyway?”

“5:30. Which reminds me, I need coffee,” Natalie says, already headed for the door. “Meet me in the lobby in 20!”

You spend the next 19 minutes hastily getting ready — putting on minimal makeup, throwing on your favorite jumpsuit, and frantically gathering up notes and gear for the day. You take one last glance in the mirror, trying to smooth down your bedhead, before resigning to just throw a cap on over the mess.

Hustling down to the lobby, there’s a rush of personnel all around — mechanics, engineers, PR reps, and media darting about with coffees and laptops and headsets already in place. You spot Natalie nursing a large black coffee and beeline over.

“Ready to do this?” She asks with a grin.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply with a shrug. The truth is, the nerves are already bubbling up in your stomach. You love your job as an F1 reporter for Sky Sports, but the pressure and scrutiny is immense.

The two of you pile into a car with the rest of the broadcast crew and head to the track. On the ride, you glance over your meticulous notes on the teams and drivers one more time, paying special attention to Ferrari.

Ever since you started covering F1 two years ago, one driver has basically refused to give you the time of day — Charles Leclerc.

For some reason, whenever you are around, he bolts in the opposite direction. When you have attempted interviews, he literally turns and speedwalks away without a word. Other drivers will chat with you, joke around, and give thoughtful answers to questions.

But Charles? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

You can’t figure out why he hates you so much. You’ve scoured your past comments and coverage looking for anything that could have offended him, but come up empty.

Is it something personal against you? Were you mean to him in a past life or something? It hurts, to be honest. You try to stay professional, but his obvious disdain for you still stings.

Sighing, you put your notes away as the car pulls into the paddock. It’s going to be a long day.

After hair, makeup, mic checks, and a final meeting, it’s nearly time for the broadcast to go live as cars start lining up on the grid. Nerves buzzing, you watch Charles warm up with his performance coach across the pit lane, headphones in and clearly in the zone. As always, he walks right past you without a flicker of acknowledgment.

Your heart twinges, but you swiftly push the hurt aside. It’s showtime.

The next few hours are a blur of rushed interviews, sound bites, stats flashing across screens, and organized chaos. After the race finally ends, there are more interviews, podium ceremonies, and press conferences to wade through before you can take a breath.

“Man, that was brutal!” Natalie huffs as the two of you finally plop down in chairs in the media room later that afternoon. She cracks open a Red Bull and takes a long drink. “You hanging in there?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply half-heartedly. The truth is, you’re drained — physically and mentally. And of course, the interaction with Charles, or lack thereof, is weighing heavy.

“Why do you let that pompous twerp get under your skin so much?” Natalie says with a frown, seeming to read your mind. “He’s a rude, stuck up jerk who isn’t worth the energy. Forget about him.”

You shake your head with a sigh. “You’re right, you’re right. I just … I don’t know, I never did anything to the guy, and it still stings.”

Just then, the door to the media room swings open, and Charles himself strides in. You inadvertently tense up as he approaches the couch, looking calm and confident in his usual Ferrari polo, and folds himself down between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, who rounded out the rest of the podium.

Here we go again, you think with an internal eye roll. Just gotta get this over with.

“Hello,” Charles says with an easy grin as he settles into his seat, “What have you got for us today?” Various reporters immediately start firing off questions, undoubtedly looking to get a headline from the race winner.

You gather your courage, take a breath, and call out “Charles, Y/N with Sky Sports here. Can you walk me through your thought process behind that daring pass on Lando in Turn 12?”

To your shock, the second Charles hears your voice, his whole demeanor shifts. He seems to freeze, shoulders hunching slightly, grin dropping from his face as his cheeks instantly flush deep red. He looks panicked almost, eyes darting around the room, before landing briefly on you.

“Uhh … b-bathroom. Need to go. Bye.”

And with that, he leaps up from the couch and practically sprints out of the room.

A stunned silence falls over the space as everyone stares, stunned, at the empty space he left. You feel your stomach drop through the floor, tears of embarrassment and humiliation prickling at your eyes.

What did you do wrong? Now he’s made a total spectacle, running away from you in front of your peers. Mortified, you shakily stand up, chair clanging backwards, and rush from the room as well. Needing air, you bolt outside until you find a secluded spot out back of the paddock, leaning against a wall as the tears flow freely.

“Hey, hey … what’s going on? Are you okay?”

The soft, concerned male voice startles you, and you gasp looking up. There stands Charles, looking alarmed and guilty.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out like that. Please don’t cry!” He moves closer, though still keeps his distance.

You blink rapidly, beyond confused. “What … what are you doing out here? I’m clearly the last person you want to be around.”

He sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is really hard for me to admit but … I like you. As in, I have the biggest crush on you. That’s why I get so flustered and basically black out anytime you talk to me. It’s pathetic, I know.”

Your jaw actually drops open in disbelief. “You … what? You like me? Is this a joke?”

“No! No, I swear, it’s the truth,” he says, face turning red again. “I know I come across like a total jerk, I just freeze up around you because honestly? You’re just so stunning and brilliant, and I get unbelievably shy and nervous. The words won’t come out. It’s like an out of body experience! I chicken out and run away like an idiot every time.”

You stare at him, trying to process this. All this time, all the hurt and embarrassment … it was just because he developed a crush?

“I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you. I know it must seem like I despise you. The truth is, you make me feel like a stuttering teenager with my first crush again,” Charles continues, looking at you beseechingly. “I understand if you think I’m a total tool, and I have a lot of work to do to make this up to you. But I swear, I really do like you, Y/N.”

At this, his face splits into a sheepish grin, eyes twinkling with mirth. You feel a laugh bubble up in your chest as relief washes over you.

He doesn’t hate you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite! You appraise him, really looking at him for the first time. From his twinkling green eyes to his adorable dimples to the lock of chestnut hair falling across his forehead, he’s unbelievably charming.

You shake your head, smile growing. “So this whole time, you’ve just been acting like an awkward schoolboy instead of giving me any indication of your true feelings?”

Charles laughs self-consciously. “Embarrassing, I know. Look, I promise I’ll do better-”

“Yeah, you’ve got a lot to make up for,” you say, crossing your arms and giving Charles a playful but pointed look. “All the grief and heartache you’ve put me through the last two years? This calls for serious groveling, mister.”

Charles immediately drops to one knee dramatically. “Y/N Y/L/N, light of my life, apple of my eye. I am but a humble driver, unworthy of your affection. But if you would do me the extraordinary honor of allowing me to court you properly, I vow to spend every day showing you how enchanted I am by your wit, your beauty, and your strength.”

You can’t help but giggle at his over-the-top chivalrous display. “Oh get up, you goofball!” You grab his hand and pull him back to his feet. “I’m just teasing. Well, partially teasing. I do expect you to apologize to me properly. Take me to dinner or something.”

Charles visibly brightens. “Dinner? Really? Yes, absolutely! In fact, let me take you right now. We’ll go to that little trattoria down the road. You deserve to be wined and dined for putting up with me.”

You consider this for a moment, taking in his eager, handsome face. The truth is, despite his past behavior, you find yourself captivated by Charles now that you understand what was really going on. His confidence, talent, and intensity are wildly attractive. And the way he’s looking at you now, with softness and admiration in his eyes .... it sends tingles down your spine.

“Alright, lead the way, hot shot,” you say with a wink.

Charles’ grin stretches even wider, if possible. “After you,” he gestures forward with a flourish, then falls into step beside you as you head towards the exit.

“I really am sorry for being such an idiot around you,” Charles says quietly after a moment of walking in comfortable silence. “The way I’ve acted was totally unacceptable. You deserve so much better.”

You glance over at his earnest expression and feel a little pang in your chest. “It’s okay, really. I get it now. Just think how close we could have been this whole time though if you’d just … I don’t know, talked to me like a normal human being!”

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Oof, so true. Honestly, I’m impressed you didn’t write me off ages ago as a complete lost cause. Clearly you’re far more patient and forgiving than I deserve.”

“Yes, I really am,” you agree teasingly, giving his arm a playful shove. You both laugh as you reach the paddock exit and emerge out onto the bustling street, taking in the energy of the crowd.

You jokingly elbow Charles’ side. “Still though, as dashingly handsome as you may be, don’t think you’re completely off the hook! I expect to be wooed and romanced properly going forward. No more running off scared like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“It’s a deal,” Charles says easily, looking thrilled. “Romance and wooing, coming right up.”

Reaching the charming little restaurant, Charles opens the door for you with a sweeping bow. You grin and step inside. Somehow, you have the feeling this is going to be the start of a wonderful evening.

No more misunderstandings. Just the two of you, getting to know each other properly over a delicious meal with the slight chill of the evening settling in around you.

And you can’t wait.

***

The next few race weekends are a whirlwind as Charles seems to do a complete 180 in his behavior towards you.

Gone is the shy, nervous wreck who could barely look you in the eye. Instead, he goes full-steam in the opposite direction, seeking you out constantly and showering you with attention.

It starts the following week after Friday practice. You’re standing in the paddock scribbling notes when you sense someone approaching. Looking up, you see Charles striding over, helmet in hand, usual calm confidence exuding from him.

“Ah, Y/N, just the reporter I was looking for,” he says with a warm grin, sidling up beside you. “Walk with me?”

Flustered by his forwardness but flattered, you quickly nod. “Uh, sure!”

Charles immediately links his arm casually through yours and starts leading you away down the paddock, journalists and crew members glancing over with raised eyebrows. You catch Natalie’s eye and she mouths “WTF?” at you with a stunned look. You just give a tiny shrug, feeling your face heat up.

“So tell me, what did you think of my lap times today?” Charles asks once you’re a few paces away from the crowd.

You blink, surprised he’s looking for actual feedback. You decide to give an honest assessment. “Well, I think you were sliding the rear end quite a bit too much through Sector 2 and losing time. The car didn’t look fully settled-”

“Brilliant analysis as always, Y/N. I knew I could count on you to give it to me straight,” Charles interrupts with a respectful nod. You feel yourself preen slightly at his praise. “Some changes to differential settings should sort that out, I think.”

He then launches into a surprisingly technical explanation of his plans to adjust the setup. You find yourself nodding along, captivated, as he outlines the various weight transfer issues and how he aims to mitigate them.

He’s speaking to you like a true engineer, not just a reporter. You realize with a jolt that he’s never gone into this level of detail with you before in any interviews.

“Sorry, I’m rambling a bit here, aren’t I?” Charles says sheepishly when he pauses. “I don’t want to bore you with too much technical detail. But you just have such a good eye and ask such insightful questions, I find myself wanting to really dive into this side of racing with you.”

He gives your arm a soft squeeze. “Anyway, let me know if you have any other observations or advice. I trust your analysis completely.”

Before you can properly respond, the two of you round a corner only to nearly walk directly into Sergio Perez, who’s heading the opposite direction. He does a comical double take at seeing the two of you arm-in-arm together.

“Ah, hello Checo!” Charles says breezily, not releasing you or missing a beat. Sergio looks hilariously confused.

“Uh … hello?” is all he manages before Charles is steering you onwards.

“See you around, mate,” he tosses over his shoulder with a wink.

You glance back to see Sergio frozen in place, staring after you both looking utterly bewildered.

The weekend continues in this vein, with Charles constantly pulling you aside to chat at length about setups, strategies, even asking your opinion on development directions for next year’s car.

He treats you with the utmost seriousness and respect, like you’re one of his most trusted advisors. It’s shocking and flattering after the cold-shoulder treatment for so long.

Whenever the broadcast crew has a break, Charles inevitably finds you and whisks you off to look at telemetry data together (which sends a poor PR officer chasing after the two of you with an NDA after the first time Charles decides to pull you into the garage) or watch video, going into painstaking detail to get your thoughts.

By Sunday, it’s become a bit of a running joke among the team, with people exchanging amused glances whenever Charles appears to disappear with you once again.

“There goes Loverboy Sharl, dragging poor Y/N off yet again to pore over spreadsheets and onboard footage,” Natalie jokes with an eye roll during a break, making the crew laugh. “How does that man ever find time to, you know, actually race?”

You shoot her a heatless glare, though you have to admit — as sweet as it is having Charles’ undivided attention, as a reporter the over-accessibility is becoming a touch much.

When the race concludes later that afternoon, Charles immediately finds you amid the chaos of the media scrum.

“Y/N!” He beams down at you, still sweaty and in his racing suit with the top half unzipped. “Come take a look at the race data with me? I want to walk through my lap times and tire deg, see if we can spot any areas to improve ...”

“Actually, I’m sort of totally swamped right now,” you gesture at the sea of people around you. “But maybe later?”

His face falls slightly. “Oh. Well I suppose I did already monopolize a lot of your time this weekend. No rest for the media?”

He gives you a lopsided smile but there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. You feel a little stab of guilt.

“Tell you what though,” he continues, brightening again. “Come find me later before we fly out. I’ll have a surprise waiting for you.”

“A surprise?” You ask with a raised brow. “What does that mean?”

“Ah ah ah, no hints!” Charles laughs, wagging a finger. “Just trust me. Don’t leave without seeing me first, okay?”

With that, he leans in and unexpectedly gives you a swift peck on the cheek. You freeze, eyes going wide, feeling your face flame. Pulling back, Charles winks cheekily at you before turning and sauntering off.

Dazed, you lift a hand to touch the spot he kissed, feeling the heat radiating from your cheek. Did he really just … right out in the open like that … with the cameras recording live?

Glancing around, you see Natalie and a few other crew members staring with mouths agape. Toto Wolff is even giving you an amused look as he walks past, one eyebrow arched knowingly. Utterly mortified, you duck your head down and hurry off to find a quiet corner to collect yourself.

The next race sees the flirting and PDA ramp up even higher. Charles can’t seem to resist finding any excuse to drape an arm around your waist, stroke your arm, or playfully tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Every interaction has an undercurrent of flirtation and innuendo. And the cheek kisses become almost routine, pressed on you in front of other drivers, team bosses, cameramen, you name it.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” You finally say in flustered exasperation after he ambushes you with a very public, lingering kiss on the cheek in the paddock one day. You struggle to sound annoyed, but a pleased grin tugs at the corners of your mouth as you say it.

“Sorry, ma chérie, I just can’t seem to resist around you,” Charles replies, absolutely zero shame in his voice or demeanor. “You’re lucky I have more self-control than to start making out right here in front of everyone!”

You gasp and slap his arm, scandalized, as he just throws his head back and laughs heartily.

Meanwhile, the double-takes and stunned looks from everyone around just keep coming. Even the normally straight-faced Fred Vasseur can’t seem to hold back smug grins whenever he sees the two of you getting cozy.

“Go on and get a room already, you two!” He finally chuckles one day as Charles passes by in the paddock with his usual arm draped around your waist.

“Don’t tempt me!” Charles quips back without missing a beat, giving you a roguish wink.

Soon, literally everyone in the paddock and broadcast team is aware of and commenting on the developing romance between you and Charles.

He makes no attempt to hide it whatsoever.

“Honestly, I think they’re the most nauseatingly adorable couple I’ve ever seen,” Jenson Button jokes to the rest of the broadcast team one evening as they all watch Charles throw his arm around you yet again and plant a smacking kiss on your temple.

“The honeymoon phase never ends with those two,” Natalie agrees in a wry tone, rolling her eyes. “It’s like they’re a pair of horny teenagers making out behind the bleachers.”

You just shake your head with a bashful smile and accept the good-natured ribbing. The truth is, despite Charles’ very public displays of affection causing some embarrassment and teasing from your colleagues, you find it hard to truly mind.

There’s an earnestness and joy in his demeanor whenever he’s with you that makes your heart swell. You’ve never seen him so openly happy and carefree as these past few weeks. Gone is the tightly wound, intense competitor. In his place is a warm, playful soul who can’t help but let his delight in your company shine through.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find his romantic attentions flattering and thrilling. The way his gaze smolders when his eyes meet yours, the tingle of electricity you feel whenever his hand brushes yours, the butterflies that erupt in your stomach when his lips graze your cheek — it all makes you deliriously giddy, like a lovesick teenager yourself.

So you endure the good-natured eye rolls from Natalie and jokes from the broadcast crew with an easy smile. Because the truth is, you’ve realized how deeply you’ve fallen for Charles in return.

“You’ve got me utterly love drunk, you charming fool,” you murmur against his chest one evening.

The two of you are tucked away in a quiet corner, Charles’ back against the wall with his arms wrapped around you as you stand embraced, soaking in a few stolen moments of intimacy together.

“The feeling is mutual,” Charles replies easily, resting his chin on your head. “I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from this madness.” He pauses, absentmindedly stroking your back. “Honestly, I half expected you to get sick of me hanging around all the time by now.”

You pull back to meet his warm green eyes. “Are you kidding? I love having you around. I still have to pinch myself that you actually want to be with me after the way you treated me for so long!”

A flicker of regret passes across Charles’ features. “I truly am sorry for being such an ass before, Y/N. I hope with time you can forgive me.”

“Already forgiven,” you assure him softly. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Relief blossoms on his face and he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “Thank you, ma belle. For being the most patient and kind woman on earth.”

You grin, eyes fluttering closed as his breath tickles your skin. “Mmm, I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess I do possess some super-human tolerance for broody and aloof superstar drivers with commitment issues.”

Charles chuckles at that and you can feel the rumble of it against your body. “Lucky for me then, or I would still be utterly lost.”

His mouth finds yours then, soft and intoxicating. You melt into the kiss, savoring his warmth, his scent, the gentle stroke of his fingertips along your jaw. All semblance of poise escapes you when you’re pressed against Charles like this. He never fails to make your head spin and body thrum with want.

A polite cough from nearby causes you to break apart abruptly. You blink, dazed, to see Natalie standing with an eyebrow arched sky high.

“Hey lovebirds,” she says in a wry tone. “Sorry to disturb the sunset groping, but they’re calling for final broadcast checks in 10.”

Face flaming, you duck your head and extract yourself from Charles’ embrace. He just shoots Natalie a cheeky grin, entirely unabashed.

“Better get going then,” Charles says cheerfully, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Wouldn’t want you to be late because of me … again.” He winks.

Natalie rolls her eyes hard. “Oh I’m sure that would be a first. See you in 10, Y/N.”

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the pits. You glance up at Charles shyly.

“I should … uh ...” You gesture vaguely.

“Yes, yes of course,” Charles says, squeezing your hands affectionately. “Work calls. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting around the next corner to steal more kisses as soon as you’re free.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove. “Go on then, you impossible man! I’ll see you in a bit.”

Heart fluttering, you watch him saunter off before heading for the pits yourself, still feeling delightfully dazed.

This is really your life now. Surrounded by racing, the thrill of competition, the roar of engines … and consumed by budding love every time Charles Leclerc is near.

As far as dream jobs go, you think with a lovestruck smile, you’ve really hit the jackpot.

[lightseoul]

endearment

synopsis. first, second, and third instances; it's official, there's something going on with bakugou and you're determined to find out.

cw. fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, aged-up (26 yrs old), established relationship, a lot of cursing

word count. 1.9k words

The first time it happens, you don’t think too much about it.

“Bakugou,” you call out from where you’re snuggled on his corduroy sofa. “Can you pass me some tissue?”

From the bathroom, you could hear a faint ‘tch’.

The sound of house slippers colliding with the tiled floor grows louder and louder until he finally emerges with a roll in his hand, which he promptly tosses to you.

You catch it—barely—and grin when you feel the thickness of the 3-ply roll, no doubt a staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s pristine apartment unit.

Go figure.

He’s circling the coffee table and plopping down next to you when your phone rings.

Confused, you pick up your phone to see a picture of you and Kirishima from your last get-together—his caller ID. Curious, Bakugou peers over your shoulder, frowning upon seeing his other best friend’s name.

“Isn’t he on patrol right now with Midoriya?” you ask.

Bakugou shrugs. “Answer it.”

Humming an okay, you click the accept button.

“Hey, Y/N! Is Bakubro with you right now?

You eye Bakugou, who’s pretending to be disinterested and not at all eavesdropping. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Kirishima laughs, “Can you tell him to check our group chat? Limited edition All Might merch just dropped.”

At that, you chuckle. “Got this Ei. He’s actually just beside me right now. I’ll make sure to tell him. And tell Izuku I said hi.”

You can practically hear the smile on his face when he says: “Thanks, bro! You’re the best.”

With that, you press the end call button and turn slightly to regard Bakugou, who’s now staring at his hands on his knees, what looks like a scowl etched on his face.

You poke at his side, trying to be playful.

“Aren’t you curious about what he had to say?”

He shakes his head before standing up and heading—again—to the bathroom.

Huh.

The second time it happens, it leaves you and your friends bewildered.

“And so that’s how yesterday’s patrol ended up with me getting a special interview with TBS,” Mina says proudly.

You chuckle, amused. “That’s amazing, Mina.”

From where she’s seated beside you in the booth of your favorite bar, she grins. “Yeah, well I try!”

Kirishima, who’s sitting opposite the both of you, chimes in. “You have to tell Bakubro that story.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Mina asks.

You squint, looking through the glass windows of the bar. “I think he’s still searching for a parking space.”

At that, Mina cocks her head to the side in confusion. “But it’s been a while since you guys arrived?”

“Yeah…”

You pick up your phone, thumbing through the contacts until you arrive at the one marked with the red asterisk.

Emergency contact.

You’re in the middle of quickly typing out a where r u when Mina, the ever meddling Mina, peers over your shoulder unbeknownst to you.

“You named his contact…Bakugou?”

Attention divided between texting and talking with your friends, you retort lamely with: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Kirishima pipes up. “It’s just that couples usually save each other’s contacts as sweet pet names.”

Mina nods in agreement. “For example, I have Ei saved as baby, with a red heart.”

Before you can even defend yourself, let alone playfully gag at the nickname Mina has given Kirishima, Bakugou appears at your table, sitting down at the booth next to Kirishima and in front of you, uncharacteristically quiet.

When you lock eyes, you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly— denoting a question: everything okay?—but he doesn’t sustain eye contact.

Instead, he stands up again quite abruptly.

“Restroom,” he explains curtly, stuffing his hands in his pockets before walking away, leaving the three of you speechless.

The third time it happens, it happens in his childhood home.

You didn’t expect to meet his parents this early on in the relationship; you haven’t even been together for a year. Yet Bakugou was determined to introduce you to them, said something about his sharp intuition telling him something or whatever.

Which is how you now find yourself in the living room of the place where he grew up, poring over photo albums like how dehydrated animals in hot climates pore over water.

With his mother, of all people.

“And this is him when his quirk first manifested,” Mitsuki explains, speeding through the pages of the album whilst grinning. You can’t help but grin back.

She points to a rather old photograph on the last page. “And this one is him playing baseball in 8th grade.”

Intrigued, you move closer to see the picture, smiling when you spot him, crimson eyes and ash blonde locks sticking out like a rose amidst the thorny bushes—impossible to miss.

Wanting to fill the air, you offer: “Bakugou was a very cute kid, Mitsuki-san.”

In a flash, she looks up at you, a puzzled look decorating her beautiful features, instead of the look of gratitude you were aiming for.

When you look back at her with confused eyes yourself, she asks, “You still call each other by your last name?”

“Oh—I—uh…”

You eye Bakugou who’s in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables for the salad, as per his mother’s instructions.

You convince yourself that he’s got to be out of earshot.

Stumbling over your words again, you scramble for purchase. “Well—”

To your relief, Mitsuki only laughs good-naturedly in response, cutting you off.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I know my Katsuki can be a bit intimidating sometimes, but inside he’s a real softie who appreciates the little things.”

You could simply nod in response.

From the kitchen, Bakugou announces: “I’m going to the restroom. Start eating without me.”

A fourth time does not end up happening.

Instead, you find yourself riding the elevator to the rooftop of Bakugou’s apartment complex, where he’s already waiting for you.

‘I’ll just go ahead’ is what he said after both of you finished cleaning the dishes from dinner. ‘Make sure to catch up’.

Before you know it, the elevator doors slide open and you step out, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the heavy feeling now sitting in your stomach.

Will you finally figure out why Bakugou’s been acting a bit off lately?

You immediately spot him, back turned against you, and arms folded across his chest, resting on top of the railing.

Slowly, you walk towards him, ultimately situating yourself to his right.

A tense—albeit not uncomfortable—silence falls upon you.

Neither of you says anything until you pipe up with: “Is there bad news?”

At that, he finally turns his head to look at you. “Hah?”

You school your expression into a pensive one. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” he exclaims, his entire body now facing you in a frantic hurry. “No!”

You chuckle. “Then what’s with the bad news face?”

“Bad news face?”

Nodding, you continue. “The face you make when you hear or are about to deliver bad news. It’s the more solemn iteration of your scowl.”

“What—” he scoffs, although he sounds pleased, “—You’ve fucken memorized my expressions?”

You shrug sheepishly.

When he doesn’t say anything in return, you prod further. “How bad is it?”

He huffs, breaking eye contact. “No bad news. Just—it’s…shit, never mind.”

“It’s just me,” you remind him. “It’s okay.”

With your reassurance, you can see his body relaxing a little bit, though he still refuses to say anything.

A few more seconds of tense silence pass before Bakugou finally looks you straight in the eye.

“Why the fuck do you call me Bakugou?

You stare at him. “...because it’s your name?”

Whatever he wanted to hear from you, it sure wasn’t that.

He scoffs. “Yeah? Well, why do you call shitty hair Ei or shitty deku Izuku? Have I failed some fucking test to qualify for first name privileges?”

“What are you talking about?”

This is what made him act weirdly the past week?

“Don’t make me say it again, woman,” he spits, although there’s not much venom coating his words.

“God,” he combs through his hair in frustration, “this is fucking humiliating.”

“I call you Bakugou because that’s what I called you back when we were just friends,” you try to reason. “Also, I…I didn’t want to start calling you Katsuki out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you finish, voice small.

“Who said I wanted you to call me that?”

 You shoot him a knowing look.

You stare at each other for a few more seconds before he groans in defeat, turning to face the city skyline instead of you. You follow suit, opting to look up at the stars that seem to be twinkling extra tonight.

Moments pass with neither of you saying anything.

You gently bump his shoulder with yours.

“For what it’s worth,” you start, “I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about.”

He only grunts in response. You press on.

“The fact that you just told me all this…I don’t know. It makes me happy. It’s sort of like saying you care enough about our relationship to communicate even the most ‘humiliating’—your words not mine—of concerns.

“Of course I fucking do, dumbass,” he retorts. “Wouldn’t have confessed to you if I was just gonna chicken out at some point like a loser.”

You smile at him and his words, and you hope your adoration translates to your face, because the thing with Bakugou is that sometimes you have to deliver the message without having to utter the words—all to preserve the moment before it’s adulterated by shame.

“Right,” you look at him, “why don’t you call me by my first name?”

“Figured I haven’t earned it yet,” he says bluntly.

Amused, you push forward. “And how were you planning to earn it?”

He shoots you a glare. “By being the best fucking boyfriend, that’s how.”

At that, you cannot help the delighted laughter that erupts from you.

He side-eyes you, annoyed, though a smile manages to crack through the facade.

“Stop laughing at me.”

And when you don’t: “Hey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you exclaim, trying to catch your breath. “I’m just happy.”

He studies you for a beat, eyes fluttering across your face as if he’s searching for something. You feel yourself grow warmer under his piercing gaze.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally says: “Call me Katsuki.”

You grin, “Okay, Katsuki.”

At your mention of his name, the scowl plastered on his face eases a little into a neutral—borderline happy—expression.

“And I’ll call you by your first name…” he declares, “if you’re fine with it or if not, just forget I said that.”

You take his hand and squeeze it before he can ramble some more.

“Sounds good to me, Katsuki.”

bonus:

“I swear,” you argue while putting on your shoes, “I can ride the subway, Katsuki.”

“At this hour?” he snorts.

“Best fucking boyfriend, remember?” he sneers as he obtains his car keys by the doorway. “Just let me do this for you.”

You relent, knowing better than to fight with Katsuki on the matter of your safety, when suddenly a brilliant idea dawns on you.

Straightening up, you say: “I don’t think I saw you drinking water after dinner, Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Go hydrate yourself,” you command.

At that, he grumbles but submits to you anyway, walking back to his tidy kitchen.

Once you see that he’s in the middle of chugging down a bottle, you call: “Katsuki?”

He grunts—the best he can do while downing a bottle of water—in response.

“Can I call you babe?”

Bakugou chokes on his spit.

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

[sizzleissues]

I just need more fics/comics that deals with the logistics of being teenage superhero’s. The fandom around them, the battles they must have on the internet over which Char Noir pic is the goofiest. The cringe fail moments. How differently Adrien handles his fame, how fans of Adrien or of Chat Noir are constantly beefing with each other. How Marinette sometimes forgets she isn’t famous as just Marinette so she makes assumptions when people are just asking her a question and she dies of embarrassment each time. How she can’t deal with fame so she just defaults to stoic hero whenever she has to do an interview but cringes later because she looks and sounds like a constipated robot. Fans sneaking to take photos of them, just hanging out. Watching Ladynoir unfold. The people they subtly impact each day. The owner of a roof they always talk on, the barista at the coffee shop Ladybug seems to fall into every second day, the florist that supplies Chat Noir his roses and gets the vague details when he returns, more dejected, for more.

I want to see this phantom fame that’s around them be animated as if they were real people.

[paddockletters]

racing hearts | lando norris ft. jude bellingham

paring: lando norris x reader jude bellingham x reader summary: Mia, a sports analyst caught between the worlds of football and F1, finds herself drawn to both Jude Bellingham and Lando Norris. Amidst the excitement of their glamorous lives, a pivotal moment forces her to confront her feelings, leaving her future uncertain and filled with possibility. author's note: Hope you liked it, teel me if you want a second part maybe... Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

Mia sat in the bustling café near the stadium, nursing a flat white as she scanned the latest highlights from the football matches on her phone. A sea of fans swarmed outside, their cheers echoing through the streets of Birmingham, but her mind was far from the beautiful game—or so she told herself. She had an important interview with Jude Bellingham that afternoon, and deep down, she wasn’t quite sure how it would go.

As she scrolled through her feed, a message dinged in from Lando Norris, her recently acquired contact via social media. "Fancy a catch-up? Just finished practice and could do with a laugh. Let’s grab a bite!"

Mia grinned, recalling their effortless banter from the charity event a few weeks back. "Absolutely! How about that café by the stadium?"

Within moments, a new message appeared: "Deal! Just don’t spill your drink this time, yeah? Wouldn’t want you to drown on me."

She chuckled, recalling the time she’d nearly snorted coffee when he showed her a video of his latest racing antics. Lando had a way of making every conversation feel like a joyride—safe but exhilarating.

Having finished her drink, Mia slipped her phone into her bag just as a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

“Oi! Mia!” Jude's voice was as warm as the sun peeking through the clouds outside. Dressed in a casual tracksuit, his presence was magnetic. Her nervousness melted away as he approached.

“Mister Bellingham! Thanks for meeting me,” she replied, standing to embrace him with a light hug. “You know it’s not every day I get to chat with a superstar.”

“A bit of an overstatement, isn’t it?” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, an endearing nervous habit. “But I’m chuffed to have you here! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

As they settled into a booth, Jude leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, are you going to tell me how close you are to Lando Norris, or should I be worried?”

Mia felt her cheeks heat up, but she brushed it off. “What? We’re just mates! He’s a laugh, you know? Good vibes all around!”

“Right, of course.” Jude raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Just keep your lips sealed about my dodgy free kicks, and we’re golden.”

They moved on to chatting about football, with Jude discussing his goals for the season and Mia sharing her experiences dissecting games for the network. As she listened, she was struck by his sincerity and genuine passion for the sport.

"Honestly, it’s not just about the glory, you know? It’s about the love for the game,” Jude said, his eyes gleaming with fervour. “Every time I step on that pitch, it’s like I’m living my dream.”

“I get that completely! You can see it in how you play, Jude. It’s inspiring,” Mia replied, feeling a sense of awe wash over her.

Just then, the bell above the café door jingled, and in walked Lando, all energy and charm. He spotted Mia and Jude instantly, making a beeline towards them, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Look who it is! The lovely Mia and Mr. Bellingham!” Lando said, sliding into the booth with the confidence of a man who knew he belonged. “What’s the secret meeting about? Planning world domination or just scheming how to beat me in a race?”

“Beat you in a race? I’d rather stick to football, thanks,” Jude quipped, grinning back as he leaned back, clearly at ease.

Mia watched the two banter back and forth, their easy camaraderie adding to her internal conflict. She felt a tug between their worlds—Jude's grounded seriousness and Lando’s lively and flamboyant spirit.

“Come on, Mia, you should ditch the footie for a day and give racing a go,” Lando insisted, playfully nudging her shoulder. “I’ll take you for a spin. Just try not to scream, alright? My driving’s top-notch.”

“And your humour is bottom-tier,” Jude interjected, but there was no bite to his words. They all laughed, but Mia noticed the intensity in Jude's gaze as he looked at her. It was surprising and new, igniting a flutter in her stomach.

“You should, though,” he said softly, turning serious for a moment. “It’s thrilling. You’d love it. The adrenaline is like nothing else.”

Just then, a flare of tension filled the air. Mia felt the atmosphere shift as she glanced between both of them—two incredible athletes with undeniable chemistry, each vying for more than just friendship.

Mia shifted in her seat, her heart racing with the unspoken tension between Jude and Lando. The café's vibrant atmosphere seemed to fade as she focused on the exchange unfolding before her.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that someday,” Mia said, attempting to lighten the mood. She looked at Lando, who still wore his characteristic grin. “But I think I’m better off sticking to my day job—at least until I’ve had some more practice.”

“Fair enough,” Lando said with a wink. “But remember, I’m always here for a joyride if you change your mind.”

Jude cleared his throat, his tone turning more earnest. “And if you ever need a break from racing or football, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a chat or a quick kickabout.”

Mia smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She admired both men for their dedication and passion, but the emotional stakes of their unspoken feelings were beginning to weigh on her.

“Thanks, both of you. That means a lot,” Mia said, her voice slightly trembling. “It’s not often I get to hang out with two of the most amazing athletes in their fields.”

They continued their conversation, but Mia’s mind was preoccupied with the growing realization of her feelings for both Jude and Lando. The way Jude’s eyes softened when he spoke, the genuine support he offered—he was everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, but there was also Lando, whose spontaneous charm and zest for life had quickly captured her heart.

As the afternoon wore on, Jude and Lando’s playful banter persisted, but Mia’s thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. It wasn’t long before they had to part ways, each with their own commitments and schedules.

“See you around, Mia,” Jude said, giving her a friendly hug. “And good luck with everything. You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Jude,” Mia replied, her heart aching slightly at the thought of parting from him. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

Lando approached next, offering a mischievous grin. “Don’t let Jude scare you off football too much. And remember, there’s always a seat in my car if you need a break.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mia said, feeling a pang of regret as she returned his hug. “Take care, Lando.”

As she watched them leave, Mia felt the weight of her dilemma settle heavily on her shoulders. Her feelings for Jude and Lando were genuine, but the intensity of their emotions and the complexity of her own heart made the situation increasingly challenging.

She stood by the window of the café, watching the crowd outside, her mind awash with thoughts and feelings. The choice she faced wasn’t just about choosing between two incredible men but also about finding her own path in this tangled web of emotions. The football season and F1 calendar would continue, and so would the world of sports, but for Mia, the real race was against the growing confusion within her heart.

Mia took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She knew she needed time to figure things out—time to understand her own heart and desires. As she walked away from the café, her steps were lighter, her mind clearer, even as her heart remained caught in the exhilarating whirlwind of racing hearts.

The following weeks were a whirlwind for Mia as she juggled her work responsibilities with the emotional turbulence of her personal life. Between analyzing game footage for football matches and covering F1 races, Mia found little time for herself. Yet, the ongoing saga of her feelings for Jude and Lando was never far from her mind.

One crisp autumn morning, Mia was at the edge of her seat, covering a crucial football match. Jude's team had a major game, and she was busy preparing her pre-match report. Her phone buzzed with a message from Lando:

"Race day tomorrow. Let’s catch up before I hit the track. I’ve got something special planned."

Mia’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Lando. She hadn’t seen him since their café meeting, and his playful promise of something special intrigued her.

She replied, "Sounds great! Where should we meet?"

“Meet me at the paddock early. I’ll have a surprise waiting for you,” Lando’s reply came swiftly.

The next day, Mia arrived at the F1 paddock, the excitement of race day palpable in the air. Lando greeted her with his usual exuberance. “Hey, Mia! Ready for the surprise?”

“Absolutely. What’s the plan?” Mia asked, trying to hide her anticipation.

“Just follow me,” Lando said with a grin.

He led her to a private area near the track, away from the hustle and bustle. A sleek, custom race car was parked there, its colors dazzling under the sun.

“This is for you,” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I thought you might enjoy a spin in one of these beauties before the race.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! Are you sure?”

“Trust me,” Lando replied, laughing. “It’s all safe. I promise.”

As they drove around the track, the speed and adrenaline were exhilarating. Lando’s presence beside her was both comforting and thrilling. They shared a few moments of laughter and awe, the world outside the car blurring into a streak of colors.

When they returned to the paddock, Mia felt a mix of elation and nervousness. Lando’s charm had rekindled her earlier feelings, making it harder to focus on her work.

Later that evening, as Mia prepared to cover the football match, she spotted Jude in the stadium’s VIP section. He was watching the game with intense focus, and Mia’s heart did a little flip. She took a deep breath and walked over to greet him.

“Hey, Jude!” she said, trying to sound casual despite her racing heart.

“Hey, Mia,” Jude responded warmly. “How was the day? I hope Lando didn’t drive you too crazy.”

“Not at all,” Mia said with a smile. “He gave me an unforgettable ride.”

As the match went on, Mia found herself caught between two worlds. Jude’s passion for football was magnetic, and his presence was comforting. She admired his dedication and the way he spoke about the game with such love and enthusiasm.

At the end of the match, Jude walked with Mia to the stadium’s exit, his hand lightly brushing against hers. “You’ve been working so hard. How about we grab a drink sometime soon, just the two of us?”

Mia hesitated, feeling the weight of her feelings for both Jude and Lando. “I’d like that,” she said softly. “I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

Later that night, as Mia lay in bed, her thoughts were a tangled mess of emotions. The thrill of the racetrack and Lando’s infectious energy contrasted sharply with Jude’s sincere and grounded nature. She felt torn, unable to fully embrace either relationship without feeling guilty or conflicted.

As the weeks went by, Mia began to realize that she needed to take a step back and focus on herself. She continued to enjoy her time with both Jude and Lando but knew that her decision would come in time.

In a heart-to-heart conversation with a close friend, Mia admitted her confusion.

“I care about both of them, but I need to figure out what I really want. It’s not fair to them or to myself if I don’t.”

Her friend nodded in understanding. “Sometimes, the best way to make a decision is to listen to your own heart and take a step back. You’ve got to find what truly makes you happy.”

With that advice in mind, Mia decided to embrace a period of self-discovery. She focused on her career and passions, allowing herself the space to understand her own desires without the pressure of choosing between Jude and Lando.

As time went on, Mia’s clarity grew. She realized that her journey was about more than just choosing between two incredible people. It was about finding herself and her own path in a world filled with excitement and uncertainty. And while her heart was still intertwined with both Jude and Lando, she knew that the future held possibilities she was eager to explore—both in love and in her own life.

As the winter months settled in, Mia’s internal struggle began to weigh heavily on her. Her career was flourishing, and she had become a respected figure in the sports world, but the personal turmoil involving Jude and Lando remained unresolved.

Jude and Mia’s friendship grew more complex. Jude had been patient and understanding, always present and supportive. Their conversations often lingered on deeper topics, and Jude’s gentle affection began to take on a more romantic tone. His heartfelt gestures and considerate actions made it increasingly difficult for Mia to ignore the feelings that were developing.

On the other hand, Lando’s presence was a whirlwind of excitement. He continued to charm her with his spontaneous adventures and infectious laughter. His adventurous spirit and playful demeanor had become a refreshing escape from the pressures of her daily life. Yet, the intensity of their interactions was unmistakable, and Lando’s occasional hints about their future together left Mia feeling both exhilarated and overwhelmed.

The tipping point came during a major sports gala in London, where both Jude and Lando were in attendance. Mia had been invited to cover the event, and the evening promised to be a glamorous affair. She arrived early to prepare, her thoughts occupied by the weight of her decisions.

As she mingled with guests and conducted interviews, Jude approached her with a serious look in his eyes. “Mia, can we talk?”

“Of course,” Mia replied, her heart racing as she followed him to a quieter corner of the venue.

Jude took a deep breath, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. “I know things have been complicated, and I respect that you need time. But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being friends. I care about you deeply, and I want more. I need to know where you stand.”

Mia was taken aback by his honesty. “Jude, I—”

Before she could respond, Lando appeared, his usual grin replaced by a more somber expression. “Hey, Mia. Can I have a word with you too?”

Jude looked at Lando, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Sure, Lando. Go ahead.”

Lando led Mia to the edge of the gala hall, away from prying eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I know I’ve been a bit of a whirlwind, and maybe I didn’t give you the space you needed. But I really care about you, Mia. More than I’ve let on. I know this is probably the last thing you need right now with everything going on, but I had to tell you."

Mia’s head spun as she looked between the two men. Both Jude and Lando had laid their feelings bare, and the pressure felt overwhelming. She had been avoiding this moment for weeks, trying to focus on her career and navigate the swirl of media attention, but now she had to face it head-on.

Rumors about her relationships had been flying for some time. Tabloids were constantly speculating, printing photos of her with Jude at a café, or Lando sneaking her into the paddock for a quick joyride. It was getting harder to ignore. The attention had shifted from her work to her personal life, and it was affecting her more than she liked to admit.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” Mia admitted, her voice wavering as she finally spoke. “This whole situation has been a lot, and I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. The media, the rumors... it’s been so intense. I care about both of you, but I’ve been struggling to even think clearly.”

Jude’s face softened, his usually confident demeanor giving way to concern. “I had no idea you were feeling like that. You don’t have to decide anything right now, Mia. But just know that whatever happens, I’ll respect your space and your choices.”

Lando shifted uneasily, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked away for a moment. “Yeah, same here. I didn’t mean to add pressure. I just wanted you to know how I feel. We can take it slow—whatever you need.”

Mia felt her eyes welling up as the weight of the situation finally hit her. “Thank you, both of you. I just need some time to think about what’s best for me.”

Jude nodded, stepping back to give her space. “Take all the time you need, Mia. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Lando gave her a small smile, the usual mischief in his eyes replaced with something softer. “I’ll be around, too. And hey, no matter what, we’re mates first.”

Mia let out a shaky breath, feeling both relieved and conflicted as she watched the two men walk away. The media could say what they wanted, but this decision was hers to make, and she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

With that, Mia felt a mixture of relief and sadness. She knew that her decision would not be easy, and the road ahead was uncertain. As the gala continued around them, she watched Jude and Lando walk away in opposite directions, each carrying a piece of her heart with them.

As she left the gala that night, the city lights shimmering in the distance, Mia knew one thing for certain: before she could choose between Jude and Lando, she had to choose herself first. And that was going to take more than just a headline or a rumor to figure out.

In the days that followed, Mia took a step back from both Jude and Lando, focusing on her career and personal growth. The break allowed her to gain perspective and eventually led to a deeper understanding of her own desires and needs.

Months later, at a quiet café where it all began, Mia sat alone, sipping her coffee. She looked out the window, reflecting on the tumultuous journey she had experienced. The thrill of the racing tracks and the passion of the football fields had left their marks on her, but it was the time she spent finding herself that truly shaped her path.

As the café door chimed open, Mia saw a familiar face—Jude. He approached her with a warm smile, and they exchanged a simple, heartfelt greeting.

“Hey, Jude,” Mia said, her voice steady and genuine. “It’s been a while. How are things with you?”

“Hey, Mia,” Jude replied, his smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “Things have been good, just keeping busy with the season. I’ve been thinking about you. How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing well,” Mia said, feeling a sense of calm. “I’ve been focusing on my work and taking some time for myself.”

Jude nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and regret. “I’m glad to hear you’re finding your balance. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk or need anything.”

Mia smiled, appreciating his words. “Thanks, Jude. That means a lot.”

As Jude turned to leave, Mia’s phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Lando.

“Hey, Mia. I hope you’re doing alright. I know things have been complicated lately. I’m in Monaco, but I’d really like to catch up when I’m back. Maybe we can figure things out over coffee? Just let me know.”

Mia read the message and felt a surge of conflicting emotions. She was touched by Lando’s sincerity, but also felt the weight of her own unresolved feelings.

Sipping her coffee, Mia gazed out the window, contemplating the paths before her. Both Jude and Lando had made a significant impact on her life, each in their own way. She realized that no matter which direction she chose, it would come with its own set of challenges and opportunities.

With a thoughtful sigh, Mia responded to Lando’s message, “I’d like that. Let’s talk when you’re back. Thanks for reaching out.”

As she sent the message, Mia knew that the future was uncertain but full of possibilities. She was ready to explore what lay ahead, with the potential for new beginnings and meaningful connections. The decision of who to pursue—or whether to pursue either—was still to be made, but for now, Mia was open to whatever the journey would bring.

The café bustled with activity around her, a reflection of the vibrant life she was living, and Mia felt a renewed sense of hope and curiosity about the future.

[defectivevillain]

struck by your lightning, ch3

reader’s pronouns: he/him

summary: You decide to take advantage of the moment’s respite you’re given. “Okay. Hey, how are you?” You look up, only to find yourself staring at Kaminari Denki. The Kaminari Denki—the idol with over thirty million listeners and sold-out concerts across the world. You’re certain that you’re going to fumble your words several times in front of him. (You're a reporter working at the red carpet of a national award gala. You've convinced yourself that you're doing just fine. At least, you're doing fine until you interview Kaminari.)

here’s chapter one and chapter two [you’ll want to read these first, otherwise this won’t make much sense]

this is a chat-hybrid fic and the formatting was mostly made for ao3. it’s a lil wonky here, so here’s the ao3 version if you’d prefer to read that :)

since it's been a while, here's a refresh of what happened in ch1-2: The reader works at DoubleVision agency and is invited to interview artists at an award show. His interview and interaction with Kaminari quickly goes viral—both because of his flustered reaction at the end and the “Love ya”s exchanged at the end. The reader tries not to think too much of it, until he opens his phone to find a message from an unknown number who proves to be Kaminari himself. The two quickly grow to be friends through frequent text conversations. Kaminari reveals that he has your placard for the event and plans for the two of you to meet up together at the nearby coffee shop…

now, onto the story....

Tokyo Entertainment Fix | @tokentfix

Popstar Kaminari Denki Spotted with Reporter from Awards Gala at Coffee Shop! 

[ coffee1.jpg ] [ coffee2.jpg ] [ coffee3.jpg ]

89k comments | 486k retweets | 1.8m likes

____________

jj | @dendendenki

ARE Y’ALL SEEING THIS

409 comments | 3k retweets | 18.2k likes

i said what i said. | @ urfavescouldnever

In response to @dendendenki 

seeing what

5 comments | 21 retweets | 451 likes

jj | @dendendenki

In response to @ urfavescouldnever 

THIS [tokentfix.twt] [newsarticle.link]

61 comments | 1.3k retweets | 8k likes

i said what i said. | @ urfavescouldnever

In response to @dendendenki 

I’M SEEING IT NOW HOLY SHIT

4 comments | 808 retweets | 1.6k likes

_______

Direct Message 

You: have you seen…?

Kaminari Denki: the news article about us?

You: yeah

Kaminari Denki: ah yeah, i saw it

You: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: WHAT

You: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: no no no

Kaminari Denki: stop that immediately

You: y??

Kaminari Denki: bc it's not ur fault!!!

Kaminari Denki: if anything, i should be the one apologizing 

You: why??? you didn’t do anything

Kaminari Denki: NEITHER DID YOU

You: ah damn it i see what you did there

Kaminari Denki: damn right

Kaminari Denki: but srsly, i hope the article isn’t messing anything up for u

You: i was gonna say the same to you

Kaminari Denki: oh pls, this kind of shit happens to me all the time

Kaminari Denki: but seriously, are you doing ok?

You: yep all good

You: it’s just more funny than anything else

Kaminari Denki: is the thought of dating me really so bad :(

You: oh pls, that’s not what i meant

You: i just meant celebrity culture in general…  like they’re so obsessed with your relationship status and it’s kinda weird>??

Kaminari Denki: yeah… 

You: sigh

You: so glad i’m just a lowly reporter 🙏

Kaminari Denki: hey, don’t jinx it

Kaminari Denki: plus, haven’t you looked on twt recently

Kaminari Denki: fans are shipping us together

Kaminari Denki: pretty sure there are stan accounts dedicated to you now

Kaminari Denki: not that i would know

Kaminari Denki: or follow them

You: fr??

Kaminari Denki: fr fr

You: deadass?

Kaminari Denki: on god

You: i hate us

Kaminari Denki: same

__________

Thankfully, that article about Kaminari and you doesn’t actually change much. You go about business as usual, albeit with a strange sense of guilt prickling along your skin when your mind is unoccupied. You throw yourself into your work and try to bury the emotions, but they are never truly extinguished. 

Your conversations with Kaminari are far rarer now, especially as the both of you get even busier. Kaminari is working on releasing his next album and you’re pitching new stories and writing to old acquaintances for features. Even though you throw yourself into work, you still find your thoughts returning to Kaminari. Your relationship with him is currently undefined—your meeting the other day felt like a date, but neither of you acknowledged it. You would love to be more than friends with Kaminari, but you also know that someone as well-known as him doesn’t exactly have the freedom to pursue a relationship and a music career at the same time. Resigned, you slowly push away thoughts of Kaminari until you think you get a good handle on your emotions. 

Until everything you try to suppress comes roaring back.

___________

 Kaminari Denki | @kaminaridenki

24 hours. [STATIC.jpg]

203k comments | 1.2m retweets | 4m likes

____________

Kaminari Denki to Release New Album Tomorrow

Arts—Music

2 min ago ᐧ By Janet Drews

Kaminari Denki, award-winning musical artist and popular culture icon, recently announced the release of his new album on Twitter. The Tweet earned over four million likes and 200,000 comments. Listeners are clearly looking forward to the occasion, as #KaminariDenki, #STATIC, and #DenkiAlbum top the Twitter Trending page (#1, #2, and #4, respectively). 

Some fans speculate the new album will be an ode to the rumored relationship between Kaminari and the DoubleVision reporter who interviewed him at the award gala [interview.mp4]. The interaction between the singer and the reporter quickly went viral following live coverage of the event. Digital citizens across the platform searched for explanations for the exchange, and Kaminari fans such as user @heyheyh3y discussed their red-carpet conversation.  

stream lightning by kaminari! | @heyheyh3y okay but is it just me or was there some tension there…  [interview.jpg]: A screenshot of Kaminari standing next to you during the interview.   907 comments | 66k retweets | 256k likes

This album will be a bit different from his previously released music, Kaminari said to Vogue Japan mere days ago. The artist made no mention of a significant other who could bear influence on his new music, despite the fact that he was seen with the DoubleVision reporter at EspressoBeanz but a few days ago—a cafè conveniently located near both DoubleVision agency and UA Entertainment. However, other Kaminari fans, like users @electrstatic and @staticshockwave, weren’t convinced:

⚡⚡| @electrstatic y’all are making such a huge deal about this whole reporter business, as if the same thing hasn’t happened time and time again with literally anyone kaminari interacts with 31 comments | 23 retweets | 700 likes electric boogaloo  | @staticshockwave In response to @electrstatic  THANK YOU. like, when he first got Arata as a manager, everyone was going batshit crazy about how they were dating… and they weren’t. and the way anyone breathing in Kaminari’s direction is assumed to be dating him… it’s crazy 0 comments | 8 retweets | 32 likes

Either way, fans across the world are looking forward to the release of new music from Kaminari.  His new album, STATIC, will be released on Apple Music, Spotify, Soundcloud, and assorted digital platforms at 3 p.m. JST (approximately 10 a.m. UTC). 

__________

Direct Message

You: heyyy, how are you feeling

You: the album releases tmrw, right?

Kaminari Denki: very nervous 

Kaminari Denki: and yes, t minus 20 hrs

You: awesome!

You: and rly? why?

Kaminari Denki: well… i worked hard on it, and i want ppl to like it

You: okay 

You: will you be disappointed if your fans don’t like it?

Kaminari Denki: a little, yeah

You: but why do you write music? do you write it for them or for yourself? 

Kaminari Denki: 

You: sorry, that sounds patronizing…

Kaminari Denki: no, you’re right

Kaminari Denki: i think i needed to hear that

You: i mean, you clearly worked very hard on it. i’m sure everyone listening will recognize that.

Kaminari Denki: i hope so

You: they will 😠 and if they don’t, fuck em

Kaminari Denki: damn right

Kaminari Denki: thanks <3

You: ofc! <3

You: i have to go eat dinner, talk soon?

Kaminari Denki: yep,, enjoy your meal

You: tyyy haha

___________

Direct Message

Kaminari Denki: hypothetically speaking

Sero Brain Cells: ok hello to you too

Sero Brain Cells: also bitch do i look like a scientist

Kaminari Denki: hYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING

Kaminari Denki: does a “<3” mean someone is hopelessly in love with me

Sero Brain Cells: jfc

Kaminari Denki: is that a yes

Sero Brain Cells: ur so fuckin whipped

Kaminari Denki: SHUT UP

Kaminari Denki: I TRUSTED YOU

Kaminari Denki: i came to you in my time of weakness

Kaminari Denki: and this is how you repay me

Sero Brain Cells: dude, you gotta tell him at some point

Kaminari Denki: ik…

Sero Brain Cells: and even if you don’t, he’ll probably figure it out soon

Kaminari Denki: wdym

Sero Brain Cells: ur new album. 

Kaminari Denki: what about it?

Sero Brain Cells: half of those songs are so clearly about him

Kaminari Denki: nahhhh no way i kept it hella ambiguous

Sero Brain Cells: ambiguous, huh

Kaminari Denki: shut up

Kaminari Denki: … do you really think he’ll notice

Sero Brain Cells: well, i’m not sure

Sero Brain Cells: you both seem a lil oblivious, so it may be fine

Kaminari Denki: hey 😭

Sero Brain Cells: all love

Sero Brain Cells: but also get ur shit together u raging homo (affectionate, non-derogatory)

Kaminari Denki: oh pls, as if you haven’t been pining for shoto for six business years

Sero Brain Cells: HEY

Sero Brain Cells: …HEY

Sero Brain Cells: HEY 💀

Sero Brain Cells: ik ur stressed rn so i’ll let that slide 🤨

Kaminari Denki: ur right, i’m so anxious

Kaminari Denki: sry for taking it out on u, bro 

Sero Brain Cells: it’s ok bro

Sero Brain Cells: wanna get ur ass kicked in mariokart?

Kaminari Denki: do i want to kick ur ass in mariokart? absolutely

Sero Brain Cells: we’ll see about that

Kaminari Denki: damn right we will

___________

Kaminari Denki | @kaminaridenki

fucking godly at mariokart [mariokart.jpg]

19k comments | 97k retweets | 347k likes

Sero | @serofucks

In response to @kaminaridenki 

oh fuck all the way off, you had steering assist on

3k comments | 45k retweets | 228k likes

@kamisimpsimp

In response to @serofucks 

OOOOP

47 comments | 430 retweets | 1.4k likes

surprised pikachu face | @kamipikakami

In response to @kamisimpsimp 

gagged and gooped

31 comments | 338 retweets | 2.3k likes

alex | @kaminarunaronari

In response to @kaminaridenki 

what really concerns me is that you main lakitu

2k comments | 134k retweets | 765k likes

stream lightning by kaminari! | @heyheyh3y

In response to @kaminaridenki 

here we are, anxiously awaiting the new album, and this mf is playing mariokart

21 comments | 208 retweets | 809 likes

@kamisimpsimp

In response to @heyheyh3y 

as one does!

0 comments | 46 retweets | 665 likes

___________

Direct Message 

You: heyyyy

You: it’s release dayyyyyy

Kaminari Denki: when you when you when you whennnnnnnnnnnnnnfdshfkdjs

You: :0

You: looking forward to it!

Kaminari Denki: :3

(Nine Hours Later) 

Direct Message 

You: congratulationsssss!!!!

You: i’ll try to find the time to listen to STATIC soon!!!

Kaminari Denki: thanks :)

___________

Kaminari stares down at his phone, watching as fans discuss the new album. He has the album on shuffle in the background as he tries to brainstorm some choreography. Kaminari has absolute faith in the talented choreographers that he works with—but he just feels like he needs to do something to combat the restless energy surging through him.  

The feedback on the album so far has been overwhelmingly positive, yet he’s still nervous—as if he’s still waiting for a reaction from someone. Shaking his head, he tries to focus on the choreography he’s creating. But that plan quickly backfires. Within moments, his phone buzzes—breaking him out of his thoughts. Kaminari freezes and immediately grabs it from his pocket, heart thudding rhythmically in his chest as he unlocks his phone and goes to his messages. There’s a series of texts from you:

You: ok, i have time to listen, now! You: gonna listen as i make dinner!!!

Kaminari sighs, trying to calm his racing heart. He doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. Taking a deep breath, he puts his phone back in his pocket and decides to practice some of the choreography for his other songs. Even amidst the music running through the space and the dance moves that seemed etched onto his very skin, Kaminari still can’t help but think of you. 

___________

Meanwhile, you’re just getting home from work. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been looking forward to listening to Kaminari’s new album for a bit now. It’s especially thrilling to think that you can discuss it with him afterward—hell, he even seems to be awaiting your feedback. The thought is exciting and nerve-wracking in equal measures. 

You decide to change out of your work clothes before starting dinner, so that you don’t have to worry about staining anything. Then, you grab your Bluetooth speaker and place it on the kitchen counter, before pulling up Kaminari’s newest album and tapping on the first song. Immediately, a beautiful, twisting melody reaches your ears and you swear you feel your shoulders begin to relax. You busy yourself with preparing dinner while his voice fills the space. 

Safe to say, the album is incredible. You really like each song you’ve listened to so far—and have found yourself saving each of them to various playlists. Even if you hadn’t spoken with Kaminari throughout the period he was working on the album, you would be able to tell that he put a lot of effort into it. As you expected, that effort shows through in each and every song.  

His songs are rather hard-hitting, emotionally speaking. The fifth song, traces of you , makes you freeze in place. You have to rewind to listen to one particular portion of the song again: 

…and I stand aside 

as you’re washed away  

with the ebbing tide 

I’m so afraid 

of falling out of love 

Sometimes I look up  

at the blinding black night 

and the stars seem to whisper  

your name in the air 

I feel a shiver roll down my spine 

I remember your hand in mine, 

and I’m just so afraid.  

You don’t know how long you stand at the kitchen counter, letting the lyrics slip into your ears and down your skin. This song is so raw and vulnerable. You feel the sudden urge to close your eyes. For a moment, you can almost trick yourself into thinking Kaminari is singing to you, that these lyrics are meant for you and you alone. It’s a foolish thought, but you can’t quite push it away. You feel your eyes burning with unshed tears as you try to picture Kaminari writing down these lyrics. What was he feeling, in those moments? Were his eyebrows furrowed in concentration? Were his hands stained from the still-drying ink of his pen? Was he tapping his foot along to an unheard, not-yet-created melody?  

Something blares loudly, tearing you from your reverie. You blink and look around the room, gasping when you realize you completely neglected the pan on the stove. The pan is smoking and you recognize that insufferable sound to be the fire alarm. You’re quick to turn off the burner. The fire isn’t extinguished. Panicking, you race to one of the kitchen cabinets to grab baking soda. Baking soda, quickly , your mind is practically yelling. You grab the baking soda and haphazardly spread it over the grease fire, relief coursing through you when you see the flames begin to die down. When the fire finally subsides, you look down at your attempt at dinner, only to find a charred pile. You shake your head in disbelief and clean up your mess, before grabbing your phone and skipping to the next song. 

You don’t make the mistake of attempting to make dinner as you listen to the rest of the album, which is a rather smart move, because the remaining songs are lyrical masterpieces. There isn’t a single song on the album that you don’t like. A small smile growing on your face, you open your messaging app. 

___________

Direct Message

You: i love the new album holy shit

Kaminari Denki: really?

You: yesssss omfg absolutely 

Kaminari Denki: akjdfkjfskdjfsdlkf

Kaminari Denki: which track is your favorite? for research purposes 

You: research purposes? lol

You: my favorite is definitely traces of you 

Kaminari Denki: ah, that’s one of my favorites, too!

Kaminari Denki: and lemme just say: i’m so happy you listened! it means the world to me, so thank you <3

You: no need to thank me—just doing my due diligence as a friend! besides, the new album is incredible!

You: and i promise i’m not just saying that to be nice,,, it’s clear you put a lot of effort into it. 

Kaminari Denki: ahhh stawp ur gonna make me all flustered xD

You: hahaha

You: i do have one critique, though

Kaminari Denki: ooooh ok i’m listening 👀

You: traces of you needs to come with a warning

Kaminari Denki: for what? shit how did i miss that

You: “warning: will distract you from cooking dinner and nearly burn your home down”

Kaminari Denki: wait

Kaminari Denki: you did notttttt 💀

You: I DID

You: i was so distracted i forgot i was making dinner

Kaminari Denki: omfgggg that’s insane

Kaminari Denki: i’ve heard a lot of things about my music, but never that it almost burned a house down and ruined dinner 😭

You: lmfaooo 

Kaminari Denki: i’m so sorry 😭😭

You: it’s not your fault, holy shit

You: don’t feel guilty!!!! if it makes you feel better, it was completely worth it

Kaminari Denki: hmph 

You: i wasn’t rly that hungry anyways

Kaminari Denki: hm hm hm hm hmmmmmm

You: whatttt

Kaminari Denki: nothing i gtg

Kaminari Denki is offline. 

You: o….kay? …bye?

___________

You exit out of your messaging app and start rummaging through your pantry for something to eat. Nothing sounds very good right now. You don’t have much food left, either—you’re in desperate need of a trip to the grocery store. You’re sure you can make time to go tomorrow, but as for right now… you’re stuck making do with what you have. Truthfully, you’re tempted to order something—but it’s already getting late and you don’t want to wait even longer for a meal when you’re already hungry. 

You walk out into your living room and flop onto the couch, trying to distract yourself from the hunger gnawing at your stomach. Admittedly, your abrupt conversation with Kaminari is weighing heavily on your mind too. You eventually scroll through YouTube mindlessly, if only to keep yourself distracted. You’re not sure how long you sit there before there’s a sudden ringing sound. You frown, wondering if you’re hearing things. 

The sound occurs again, and you realize that someone must be ringing your doorbell. Squinting in confusion, you head to your front door and peek through the peephole—surprised to find a familiar blond singer standing on your porch. You quickly unlock your front door and swing it open. “Kaminari?” You ask, convinced you’re seeing things. You hadn’t made plans to hang out today, and you assumed that your conversation died off because he was busy. 

“Hey,” Kaminari smiles. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans with a pair of colorful sneakers. His bangs are clipped back and his hair is almost glowing in the dim light of your porch. There’s a sheepish smile on his face that is endlessly endearing. “I heard you missed dinner.” He smiles, holding up a few bags of takeout from a restaurant the two of you had spoken about before. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quickly, hoping that you didn’t make him feel as if he had to provide you with dinner. It wasn’t his fault you were distracted. 

“I wanted to,” he says with a smile, dispelling your doubts. “I think I remember your order, but…” He trails off, averting his eyes with an embarrassed expression. “I got a few different things, just in case.”

“I could kiss you,” you breathe relievedly, unaware of the flush that adorns Kaminari’s cheeks as he processes that remark. You motion for him to come in, before locking the front door and showing him to the dining room. You leave him to unbag the food, while you grab plates and utensils. “Do you want anything to drink?” You ask from the kitchen.

“What do you have?” Kaminari asks casually. 

“Water, soda, sparkling water…” You trail off, looking through your fridge for anything else you may have laying around. 

“Water’s fine,” he smiles. You roll your eyes and grab another glass, filling up waters for you both before returning to the table. Kaminari wasn’t kidding when he said he bought a few different things—as it’s all laid out on your table, it looks as if he bought half the menu. You return to the kitchen and grab the plates and utensils you gathered earlier, before heading back. Unsurprisingly, the pile of food on the table doesn’t get any smaller. 

“This is a lot of food,” you remark cautiously. Realistically speaking, there’s no way you’ll be able to finish all of this, and you feel slightly guilty. 

“Oh, yeah,” Kaminari nods, “I figured we would have enough for leftovers, and stuff.” You nod in agreement, before busying yourself with making a plate. 

“So,” you say, once the two of you are settled in and have begun eating. You didn’t realize just how hungry you were until you took a bite of the food. There’s an inexplicable tension hovering over the air, and you’re unsure if you’re imagining it or not. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Kaminari responds with a nod. “Really good,” 

“Good!” You smile, taking another bite. “Are you topping the charts already?”

He smiles bashfully, poking at his food with a fork. “I think so… yeah.” He’s so humble, and you can’t help but think it’s rather admirable. 

“That’s so cool,” you remark, “I’m so happy for you.” 

“Thanks, I’m happy, too.” He smiles briefly, before looking back down at his food. The happiness in his expression almost seems to flicker for a moment, and the grin on his lips suddenly looks strained. You frown. At first, you want to put that sight down to your imagination; but when the silence stretches on for a while and he doesn’t make a move to continue speaking, you decide to acknowledge it. 

“Are you sure?” You blurt out, before you can contemplate the consequences of speaking so freely. Kaminari looks at you in confusion and you grimace. “Sorry. It’s just- You seem a little… off, I guess.”

“I’m good,” he reassures you with a small nod. The gesture is not very convincing. 

“Okay,” you say, not wanting to push him further. If there’s something he doesn’t want to talk about, you’re not going to force it out of him. After a few moments, your conversation returns to normal. You still have a lingering suspicion that there’s something weighing on his mind, but you decide to forget about it. 

Overall, your dinner is pleasant. You get the chance to ask Kaminari a few questions about the album, and you really enjoy seeing his eyes sparkle as he goes into in-depth explanations of the meanings behind his songs. It feels like you’re seeing a side of him that very few people get to see—but you don’t want to flatter yourself. 

Kaminari offers to help you with the dishes when you’re both finished eating, but you quickly refuse and promise him you’ll finish them quickly. You run water over the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, promising yourself to run it later that night. When you return to the table, you’re surprised to find Kaminari staring ahead with a troubled expression on his face. His hands are clasped on the table and his lips are pulled in a thin line. 

Before you can even begin to ask, he’s filling the silence. “You were right,” Kaminari admits. He sounds a little strange—almost as if he’s nervous. You stare at him expectantly. “There is something bothering me.”

The tortured expression on his face is a bit worrying. “Well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” You feel the need to remind him. While you’re concerned about what could be distressing him, you know that sometimes, it’s too painful to talk about those types of things. 

But Kaminari surprises you with his response. “I want to,” he reassures you. You watch as he pushes himself to his feet and stares down at the table, running a finger along the wood. “I’ve just… been trying to figure out how to say it.” 

“Take your time,” you say. “I’m not in a rush.” Kaminari nods appreciatively. 

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to hear, in all honesty. But what he says next feels entirely unreal. “When I first met you, I was attracted to you,” Kaminari chokes out, looking at the ceiling as if nervous to meet your eyes. “I sort of expected it to fizzle, because… well, I didn’t know you all that well. But once we started talking more, I realized that my feelings weren’t going away. While I just knew you as the alluring reporter before, I now knew you as this… this incredible person.” You stare at him in shocked silence. 

“You’re so… You’re kind, smart, and passionate. You have a wicked sense of humor and I always look forward to hearing from you. I…

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with me and my career, but… Truthfully, I hit a bit of a rough spot. My last album was a few years ago and I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to write anything new. But then I met you, and got to know you, and all of a sudden, I was writing all the time. 

“Suddenly, I had an entire album—filled with songs that I wrote while thinking about you. And I didn’t know what to do. I had already tried to bury my feelings for you, and it clearly hadn’t worked at all. I assumed you didn’t feel the same as I did. And I’m still not sure, of course.

“But when you sent those messages earlier… I felt something snap in me. It was like, one moment I was staring down at my phone, and the next, I was walking into that restaurant you were talking about.

“And tonight, I’ve been trying to keep it together… But it’s been nearly fucking impossible. I see you across the table and I can’t help but think that this is how I want to spend the rest of my life—sneaking glances at you, and hearing about your day at work…

“Not to mention, the whole Sero thing… It was stupid. But when you said you liked his music, my heart just dropped. I felt like… I don’t know. I felt like I lost you. Even though you weren’t mine to lose.” 

“Anyway,” Kaminari says, shaking his head before meeting your eyes. He looks simultaneously more relieved and more nervous than before. “I just had to get that out. And now we can pretend I never said anything.” He shakes his head and fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. 

You’re still reeling from everything he just said, but you’re quick to dismiss his assumptions. “What?” You exclaim. “No, Kaminari, I have feelings for you too,” you say. He stares at you with wide eyes. “It’s been so fun getting to know you. You’re just… you’re so bright and energetic, passionate, and good-hearted… I was so nervous when I first met you, because it was my first time ever being on a red carpet… but you made me feel more confident, just by being yourself.”

“And when I got distracted listening to your music earlier… It was because I was thinking of you, and thinking that, somehow, you could be singing just to me. That you could have written that song… just for me. And I know it’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid,” Kaminari interjects, before you can spiral into further self-deprecation. “I just told you, I was thinking of you when I wrote them. All of them.” The lyrics flicker before your eyes at rapid speed, as you remember all the words that felt too vulnerable to ever be yours. You think about how you felt as you were cooking dinner��that tight feeling in your chest as you pretended that everything was fine, as you pretended that you were okay with the idea of Kaminari writing those songs while thinking of someone else. Before you can contemplate your next move, you’re surging forward—and Kaminari is too. Your hands cradle his cheeks as you kiss him, and he tugs you impossibly closer with his hands on your waist. His touch sends pleasant shivers down your spine. 

“I guess the fans were right, huh,” you remark with amusement once you break apart. 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Kaminari says, his eyes gleaming. He takes a deep breath, his hands still latched on your waist (as if he doesn’t want to let you go). Indecision draws his lips together into a flat line. “Are you sure you want to do this? Being in a relationship with me… It’s going to be different. I- I can’t pretend that I have any privacy whatsoever, or a super accommodating schedule, or-”

“Of course I want to do this,” you immediately say, before he can continue. “More than anything.” 

Kaminari’s hands migrate up your shoulders and towards the nape of your neck. He leans closer until your foreheads are touching. “I’m just so afraid.” He whispers, so quietly that you nearly convince yourself you didn’t hear it. (The stars seem to whisper your name in the air… I feel a shiver roll down my spine, I remember your hand in mine, and I’m just so afraid). You pull him into a hug.  

“Me too,” you admit in a breath against his shoulder. Kaminari mutters something into your shoulder, but it’s incomprehensible. “Hey, if we can get five and a half million people to watch us stumble through an interview, I think we can do this.” The singer huffs a laugh and pulls back, his hand rising to your cheek and his thumb running across your skin. There’s a smile on his face—one of unmistakable fondness and affection. You lean forward to break the distance between you once more, a euphoric feeling settling in your chest and a smile growing on your face.

endnotes:

i really snuck Seroroki in there, mhwhahaha.

this took so fuckin long to format on here (I had to format it AGAIN despite already devoting time to doing that on ao3), pls show some love if you enjoy it... i'm begging

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat anddd @alex12ander @7heehee7 @the-lurking-await-you since y'all commented on part two

[rindouheart]

Hello how are you ? I would have liked to ask you if you could write scenarios about Noël Noa and Itoshi Sae (separated) where they fall in love with a journalist please

NOËL NOA and ITOSHI SAE falling in love with a journalist 🎋

content. fluffy boys being cute + gender neutral s/o <3

author’s note. hi cutie! sorry for being this late, i’ve been quite busy with school, sorry! hope you enjoy + my french is a bit rusty, tell me if i’ve misspelled something.

NOËL NOA

“so, how was playing alongside blue lock’s young players?” your colleague asks to translate.

you turn your head towards the football player and translate the sentence. first, you’re a journalist, but in your group, you’re also the only who can fluently speak multiple languages. you’re not specialised in the sport field, however, knowing four languages brought you the opportunity to work in many other contexts.

noa is absolutely stunned by your fluency when speaking french, you’re almost as good as a native. he wonders how much effort you had to put into learning languages. japanese is pretty different from european languages, especially because of the alphabet and the sentences’ structure.

“merci à vous pour votre disponibilité” you thank him after finishing the interview. he loves how cute your japanese accents sounds.

noa is almost tempted to ask you if you’d like to ask a couple more questions, just to hear you speaking french again. however, a bunch of other journalists is coming towards him, so he wouldn’t have enough time to answer to everyone.

he can see your name and the newspaper you work for before you leave, though. he saves a mental note to look for you during the next interview or conference, and who knows, he might ask you what he hasn’t asked you today.

ITOSHI SAE

sae wasn’t expecting to find someone like you to interview him after his return to japan. he’s always been used to those old journalists who have been in the industry for like, what? a century or so? you are quite a surprise to him.

“welcome back, itoshi, so, how was your adventure in europe?” you ask him through your microphone, waiting for his answer. you’re not just pretty, your voice is also nice to hear.

while he’s answering with all the details about how the team acted towards him and such, sae looks at you, taking notes about his answer.

he swears he’s never seen you before. however, you might be one of the most famous journalists in japan, since he’s been abroad for a long time.

at the end of his conference, when everyone is leaving, he walks towards you and, when he’s sure that no one is listening, sae asks for your name.

“are you new in the field? i mean, it might have been because i’ve not been around, but your face seems new to me” he questions. you nod in response “i’ve been working as a journalist for a couple of months now. the newspaper i write for isn’t as big as many others, but i personally love my job”

“i’ve noticed it, you look much more professional than any other one in the room” you smile after hearing his compliment. oh god, your smile. sae is completely lost.

“would you like to get a coffee or something with me? we can chat a bit and i can tell you some exclusives to add on your article” he asks.

when you accept gladly, sae smiles. he’s totally fallen for you and he won’t give up so easily.

@rindouheart ‘s scenarios — 02092023

[jackchampiongf13]

Come Back… Be Here

Jack!Championx!reader

Warnings: Angst but a happy ending, swearing, kissing, let me know if I missed anything!

A/n: I’m not super proud of this but I need to post something. Also I am sorry that I haven’t posted anything! And a big thank you to all the love on my first post. Also lots of Taylor Swift references in this hehe😛(I didn’t proof read it too so I hope it’s all good)

This is when the feeling sinks in. You realize that this is happening. He’s breaking up with you?

“Y/n” he gets out barely because of the tears that were clogging his voice up. “I love you. I will always love you. I just am so busy and you deserve better than me. Way better then me.”

You look at him with disgust. It’s 4am and he’s saying it in a simple way. “I really told myself ‘don’t get attached’ what the fuck Jack” you couldn’t help but be mad. You don’t blame him though. Your mad at yourself.

“This is all my fault is it not?” You say looking down. “No it’s not, don’t blame yourself Y/n. I love you but with me now going on press tour and doing interviews we won’t have time for each other. You’re already super busy with senior year of Highschool and so am I, even if I am homeschooled, I still have to do all of that then go and talk about avatar to a whole bunch of strangers!”

“Jack, it’s okay! Take me with you” You plead trying to reach for his arm.

“No.. your not getting it.” He says pulling away from your reach.

“What am I not getting?” You just want him to hold you and never let go.

”This isn’t fair to the both of us. It will just add more pressure and stress to everything. Go to college and get your degree. You’ll meet someone better and marry them like you’ve always wanted.” It hurts him to say this.

“I don’t want anyone else I want you. Just you.” Pleading for the last time. You finally meet his eyes as you try to embrace him for a hug. He take your arm and rubs it for a second. “I will always love you.” He says as he gives a peck on your forehead.

You watch him walk away. Your jaw is dropped. How could he do that? And at 4 in the morning? A/n: Jesus Jack we just wanted to sleep🙄

————————-—————————————————

It’s been 6 months since the breakup. It took you awhile to be happy again, but it happened. Well for the most part. You had just graduated high school, it was now July. Even after the breakup, you were still his biggest supporter. Even if you never talk to him anymore, you still stalked his Instagram and TikTok.

He was in New York today. And so were you with your whole friend group to celebrate graduation. He had posted on insta. “Oh god, Betty!” You scream.

“Are you okay!?” She runs out of the hotel bathroom. “He’s here. In New York.” You smile a bit.

“No Y/n. Not again.” She snatched your phone to look at the post. “Holy shit isn’t the hotel he’s staying at just right down the road?” She questions herself. Your eyes widen. “Wha-“ you try to continue talking but get cut off by her horrible sheirk. “Shit Y/n he swiped up on your story.”

“Give me back my phone!” You take it and half swipe the chat. Jack: Hey! That’s so funny you’re here too! I’m right down the street maybe we should go get coffee? I mean if you’re ok with that. I miss talking to you.

You smile to yourself. “He misses talking to me…” you say with a hopeful tone. “No Y/n! Not again!” She takes the phone but it’s too late. You: Hey Jack! Of course I would love to go get coffee with you and catch up!

“Oh no no no. I’m deleting it” Betty says. “Support my decision Betty. Just go hang out with James today!” You say rolling your eyes and snatching the phone once more. “Fine this is me supporting you” She smiles and give you a peck on the cheek. “Text me if you need me! Love ya!” She says as she begins to walk out to her boyfriends room.

“Yup” you sigh as she close the hotel room door. Was this a bad idea? We’re just friends that’s it! You jump out of bed and put on the cutest outfit you could find. Which ended up being a blue crop top that brought out your eyes and black leggings. This was a basic outfit but it was pretty crappy out and you just felt good in it.

You text him letting him know that you’re free whenever. He texts back immediately. Jack: uh I can rn if that’s good

you: duh that’s fine lmao

Jack: want me to come over to your hotel and we can walk together?

you: sure! My hotel room is ts13 at the eras hotel!

Jack: Be there in 10

“Shit. I have to do my hair and makeup.” You say out loud You: can you maybe give me 20

Jack: lol gotta do your makeup I assume

you: you know me all too well

Jack: Taylor reference?

You: Duhhh

Jack: ok go get ready for me

get ready for him? Damn instant butterflies.

—————————————————————————

You finished your makeup and had one more section on curling your hair when you hear a knock. You run to the door and see him.

“Hey gorgeous!” You can’t help but say as he looks down and blushes. This is what always happened when you said that. He didn’t wanna show you he liked that nickname but you knew.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming, but instead of getting coffee together I just went and got your usual. I hope that’s ok.” He looks back up at you as you notice he looks you up and down. You blush at the thought of him remembering your favorite order

“Thats totally fine! Come on in” You say in a very loud and happy tone. “I need to finish my hair really quickly. Just give me 5” you smile at him. He smiles back with his perfect white teeth smile. You feel butterflies creep on in your stomach. “I can do it for you! Remember that time I did your hair.” He laughs as he recalls the past. “It was a disaster oh my god! I remember that so well!” You shout from the bathroom. He comes in the bathroom to help “I trust you Champion” he just smiles at the nickname and takes the curling iron.

“Ow!” You scream as he burns your neck by accident. “Shit oh god I’m so sorry beautiful” the pain disappears as you focus on him for a second. He used to call you that when you guys dated. It was your favorite nickname. “Are you okay?!” He quickly asks as he turns the water on to put cold icy water on the burn. “Y/n?!” You smile at him. “I missed this a lot Jack. I missed you” he stops trying to put water on your neck and looks deep into your beautiful eyes. “I still love you” he quickly lets out but then covers his mouth. You can’t help but smile. “I still love you too.” You don’t care about the pain in your neck anymore and jump into his arms as you kiss him. “We will make it work this time” you smile to him “I’m not ever gonna let you go” he says into the kiss. “I didn’t want to miss you like this” you laugh after breaking this kiss. “Come back, be here in this kiss” he says again as you laugh knowing it was a Taylor reference.

[pascallatte]

It's just Us

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: Love in Lockdown Part 2, basically a lot more sweet things that happened during quarantine.

Date: May & June 2020

Warnings: none

May

Being put on live on the spot isn’t a thing you’re great at doing. Even if you’re being confronted by friends, you tend to sort of standstill in shock for a few moments before whatever had happened sinks in.

Why is this being talked about? It’s because it is currently what the people who are watching Sarah’s Instagram live with Pedro are seeing right now. You have just entered the car, with a bag and coffee cups in either hand. Dressed up in your most frequent get-up, a shirt and sweats, as well as a mask adorning your face. 

The live was also something Pedro was not ready for but if a friend of yours is on live and you haven’t seen each other since quarantine had started, one can only think of acting before thinking of the outcome.

So here you were, holding the phone and chatting with Sarah while Pedro’s driving the two of you home after deciding to buy from the nearest and only opened coffee shop rather than having it delivered.

“So as I was saying, Olivia a while ago talked about wanting to adopt a pet. How about you? You guys ever think of adopting?” Sarah had asked you again after being interrupted by the car’s horn.

Agreeing with her, “Uh, yeah we have thought of adopting one but never really had the chance to cause y’know, covid happened.” Sipping from the straw before offering some for your Pedro since he kept asking you what you got.

“I see that you guys went on your frequent coffee runs, what are you guys up to ne-” Asking a question again, making you chuckle as you thought that it seems like she was interviewing you two.

“-What’s funny, y/n?” She asked when she saw you chuckle. Only responding with a shake of the head, you composed yourself before answering.

“Nothing’s funny, I'm sorry. I just thought that we look like we’re having an interview with all the questions you’ve asked us already. Um, to answer that too, we don’t really have anything planned nex- well I don’t have anything else to do. Not sure about him though.” You explained before turning the camera to let them see Pedro who was humming a song to himself while waiting for the stoplight to turn green.

Tapping his thigh, he turned to you expectingly. Humming a sound of confusion he looks at you before to the camera.

“Sarah’s asking what you have planned next,” telling him, to let him know what’s up with the live.

Confused, “Next? What do you mean next?” He asked, making Sarah laugh at his expression that was telling everyone he was lost, literally.

“By next, I mean, what do you have planned when you get home, silly,” Sarah said, bursting out laughing, making you laugh as well. A sound of understanding escaped Pedro as he turned to drive again.

Still waiting for an answer from him, you leaned across the armrest between you two to lean on his shoulder. Nudging him a bit making him release a hum.

“I don’t have anything planned to do later so we’ll probably just sleep or watch a movie, like always. Nothing new.” He told Sarah, or rather the whole live as if it was just a normal call with a friend. And in doing so, he takes your free hand in his out of habit before kissing the top of it. This makes you look at him with a smile, before turning the live once again.

“What about you? What’re your plans for the evening?” you asked her wanting to talk more. The back-and-forth questioning continued for about half an hour, before having to leave it due to you arriving at your place.

June

Pedro is known to be a huge Instagram user, and ever since being stuck at home his stories and occasional posts have been dedicated to his muse, you. It’s now become a thing that he and your fans await his so-called three-part story every week because of the amount of fun content he has of you or himself.

It varies from the regular shenanigans you guys do or the more calm ones that he has come to appreciate as time passed by. But in this case, the latter is being posted.

Just like how his videos regularly start, this one started with a close-up of his face. From the looks of it, he looks freshly showered and in bed. Your voice was heard in the background but was faint to be heard clearly.

Glancing in your direction for a second, he gets himself comfortable on the bed before deciding to speak 30 seconds in.

“AHHHH Yeah!” His sudden outburst made you yelp and throw a pillow at him. Pedro smiles before greeting everyone, “Good morning, as you know it’s a Sunday. meaning we can all stay in bed and chill and lounge and sleep and do whatever the fu-oww”. You cut off his cussing with a soft, to you, hit on his bare shoulder.

“No cussing,” you softly said, still out of frame, before continuing whatever you were doing.

“Fine fine, so again it’s a sunday and I don’t have anything to do so come prepared, see you later.”

A few hours later he posted his second story just before afternoon hits. Sitting on the couch has played with some filters you’ve saved on his phone for a bit, still, you weren’t seen but you were heard singing something fans were familiar with but can’t seem to think of what it’s called.

“Hello again, it’s me, Pedro. We’re just about to have lunch, my dearest,” he shows you, finally, who’s behind him preparing in the kitchen, “had prepared a simple comfort food of ours, and I can’t wait.”

He raises the phone and zooms in on you moving around the kitchen, your singing seemed to grow louder as it progresses, unfortunately, you were still unaware of the phone recording you.

“I feel badly, about you, feeling badly about me,” your voice was heard throughout the room making Pedro let out a silent gasp in excitement, but at the same time hinting about something not many would know at that time.

“Y/n…” he whisper shouts at you making your singing slowly end. Now seeing the camera you gawked at it, turning to Pedro who was still sitting on the couch.

Releasing a breath, “yeah?” You asked him, before motioning him to come to the table.

He gives you an all knowing look making you laugh and shake your head, before sitting down on the table.

“I know, I know, now come on or else I’ll finish this shit up.”

“Ooo okay bye,” he quickly says ending the second part.

And since it’s a Sunday, something that had became part of your routine is doing self-care on Sundays. This consisted of having a long bath, cleaning out your things, and the most common one and what you’re currently doing, skincare.

Pedro isn’t the kind of guy who would turn down being soothed, so when you first brought up the thought months ago he agreed immediately. Fast forward to now, and here he was again in your shared bathroom phone angled lower than usual, your hand is seen spreading a mask on his face.

“Okay… it’s nighttime, my next favourite part of our Sunday aside from being able to wake up next to her every morning,” he smoothly says with a smirk. Standing up from where he was sitting, he angles the phone higher to show you in a robe now applying the mask on your face.

“ Y/n’s currently applying this green spread-thing on her face like how she did on mine and I think you’re supposed to leave it on for 15 to 20 minutes or so, before rinsing it off,” he explains after he flips the camera and zooms in on your reflection in the mirror.

“ and while we leave this thing on our faces she often does those things to her hair and occasionally on mine- but I don’t really know why she does it to me but she says it’s to keep my hair “shiny and silky and curly”... Her words not mine,” he teases you pushing the side of your hips with his, making you turn to him, hands on your waist.

“Back to the face spread,” he goes back to explaining, now looking at you directly as you slowly let out a smile as he says all the things you’ve repeatedly told him in the past about the product that you’ve used. Your fond look is clearly seen by the camera and will soon make your fans go wild because of the softness (as they normally say) of the moment.

“ Yeah so that’s about it, here’s to a well-spent Sunday to everyone and remember to take care of yourself,” he flips the camera to himself for the last time and pulls you to his chest making you say goodnight as well.

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark355 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina

[poppypickle]

Half-Finished Fic Fest

So, like most fic writers, I've amassed a bunch of half-written fic drafts over the years. I didn't post them at the time for various reasons -- because they were unfinished or because I thought they tread too familiar territory or because I just didn't feel like it.

But I've decided to post them in all their half-finished glory because what the hell, why not?

I wrote this Dan/Blair ficlet way back in...2012, maybe? Originally I wanted to have five snippets featuring Henry at various ages to show how the relationship between Dan, Blair, and Henry evolved over the years. It was going to be very sweet! But I only finished this first section, which features a seven-year-old Henry. If you're still carrying a torch for Dair, enjoy!

If I could be anywhere, I'd still be here instead 578 words

“Uncle Dan, I need your help.”

Henry Bass marches into the Humphrey-Van der Woodsen loft, a notebook in his arms. Blair’s heels click clack against the wood floor as she follows, her purposeful gait exactly matching her son’s.

Dan laughs, setting his coffee down on the counter before turning to brew another cup for Blair.

“What can I do for you, kiddo?”

Henry climbs up onto a kitchen counter stool. “I have to do a career report.” He pulls a pencil out from his notebook’s spiral ring and flips the notebook open to a blank page.

“Henry’s teacher has asked the children to interview someone about what they do for a living,” Blair clarifies, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter. “I told him that Uncle Nate was a better choice, but for some reason he’s chosen you, Humphrey.”

Dan pours the coffee into a mug and wordlessly hands it to Blair along with the sugar bowl. “And you didn’t want to ask your parents or Aunt Serena?”

“It can’t be our parents and my mom says ‘influencer’ isn’t a real job,” Henry shrugs.

“Henry! That was a private conversation.” Blair turns to look around the apartment. “Where is Serena anyway?”

“Budapest?” Dan stops to think. “No wait, maybe Bruges?”

Blair rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. “It’s Budapest,” she confirms, turning the phone to show Dan his wife’s latest Instagram post.

“I picked you because I wanted to, Uncle Dan,” Henry interrupts, his pencil still poised above the paper. “Because I like writing stories too.”

Dan stops and smiles. “That’s amazing. I would love to read one of your stories one day, Henry.”

“Maybe. If you agree to let me interview you for my report,” Henry says, jutting his little hand out expectantly.

Dan laughs. “It’s a deal,” he says, shaking Henry’s hand. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re just like your mom?” Blair rolls her eyes, but hides her smile behind the coffee mug.

“Only everyone,” Henry scoffs. “Okay, enough chit chat. First question: When did you know you wanted to be a writer?”

“When I was eight years old I entered a story contest at the library and won. Then I just kept writing and writing.”

Henry scribbles the answer down, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrates. “Okay, how many books have you written and what was your first book about?”

“Four books, and….” Dan hesitates, then looks at Blair with a question in his eyes.

“His first book was about me,” Blair says matter-of-factly. “I was an early muse,” she continues, leaning over her son’s notebook to watch him carefully write the answer down. “M-u-s-e.”

Henry quirks an eyebrow up. “Really?”

Dan meets Blair’s eyes over Henry’s head. “It was a really long time ago. Before you were even born.”

Henry looks between the two of them for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, you guys ARE really old.”

Blair sputters out a cross between a scoff and a gasp, while Dan just laughs heartily.

“Can we get back to my report now?” Henry sighs after a moment. “I have a few more questions.”

“How many?”

“20.”

Dan’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“I suppose you had better make waffles, Humphrey.” Blair says, setting herself down daintily on the counter stool next to Henry. “Sounds like we’re going to be here awhile.”

Dan smiles and pulls a bowl out from a cabinet. “Blueberry or chocolate chip?”

[popcornforone]

The Interview

Part of the Attending Mr York Fan Fic Series

Master list

I just couldn’t put the Dave I created down. You got the last chapter in April of the original story but I actually finished writing it in March, & I missed him & the little world I created for them. So here I am back with my Stabby… ready for more fun.

Synopsis: You’ve applied for a housekeeper & Nanny job that you know you won’t get, but the perks & money were to tempting to not go for. So your shocked when your asked to come & be interviewed at the York residence, & meet the family who’s needs you will be attending.

Word count: 3200

Warnings: this is tame for me & Dave. Swearing & alcohol, pining, imagining what Dave might do to you, descriptions of oral sex are mentioned, along with blood, cuts, injuries & sick.This is the first time you come across Dave so it’s rather soft. However the rest of the series won’t be & as always DAVE YORK COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING!

Thanks as always for the read people, all feedback is always welcome

Job interviews are never the easiest thing in the world, for a normal job. You never know if the vibe is going to click & if you will just get on, & be the person they are looking for. However this interview is one that you don’t think you will get, not in 100 years. You’re not really qualified for it but the perks that come with the job are most intriguing & you knew it was too good an opportunity to miss out on applying for. You were shocked when you got a phone call from them to say they wanted to speak to you. Obviously The Yorks have seen a quality in your cv that they think will suit this role.

Finding The York residency is easy. Considering what they want & how on the application they have described their lives, you thought they would have a much grander house in a much more affluent area. But here you are on a Wednesday afternoon, pulling up across their drive looking at this family home, which doesn’t look like it’s rather special but does seem homely from the outside. You make sure your hair is okay & that your outfit isn’t creased. You’ve worn a day dress but one that’s easy to move about in, if they tell you to go & interact with their kids. After all this is a job for a Nanny & House Keeper, surly whatever kids they have, must like you if your to get the job, not that you think you stand any chance of getting it at all.

You hear the doorbell echo across the house as you press it & wait patiently for someone to greet you, admiring the pot plants by the path. The front door opens & you are greeted by name “welcome, im Carol, we spoke on the phone last week, thank you for coming to listen to us” she says as she welcomes you in & you shake her hand. “My husband is just finishing a phone call but he will join us shortly, come with me to the kitchen, would you like water, tea or coffee?” Mrs York asks ushering you in & taking your coat. The house is homely but there’s no art on the wall, everything is very clean & white & in its right place. Clearly Mrs York likes this, it’s all very to the point & perfect. Until you get to the kitchen.

It’s a grand kitchen. A walk in pantry, an island counter with low lights hanging down, perfect for entertaining, a little kids play area a few steps down, a sofa & a round table which you can tell has been cleaned for this chat today. It’s too clean. This is clearly where their life happens & you suddenly feel very at home in this room. This is where memories are made for the Yorks. You watch as Carol makes you coffee & just have a nice chat about your drive & the weekend thats been & the next one to come.

“Sorry darling, you know how Daniels gets in the phone” a voice bellows from behind you which came from nowhere. It’s deep & sharp & you turn around to introduce yourself & shake his hand, but instead you almost drop your coffee cup. You’re frozen to the spot. You don’t believe in love at first sight, but you now think lust at first touch might be true. Large & broad, towering above you. His eyes dancing across you looking for any hit of weakness & vulnerability. His light blue shirt & dark pants are crisp, that belt buckle is polished & shoes so shiny you could see your face in them. Those eyes that are giving you the once over, are dark pools of delight. Rich caramels, taking in every inch of his prospective house keeper. Clean shaven as his large hand goes around his neck into this thick dark short hair. Those lips probably smile & seduce but the sternness in his face makes you think they haven’t smiled in a while. He has a mysterious aura around him, one of danger & to not get too close. But you can’t help it, the second his hand firmly shakes yours, you are his. It doesn’t matter his wife is standing next to you answering him back, you’re transfixed on her husband & you need to snap out of the trance quickly. “I’m Mr York… David York”

The next few minutes are a blur, watching this powerful man, who has somehow in all of 5 words, got all the power in the world over you. You’d do anything for this man, & you have only met him for a few minutes. The way he hold his mug, that chiseled jaw extending, the way he slurps his coffee. Seeing his lips kiss his wife’s cheek, you feel jealous. & that’s what makes you snap out of your trance, that & Carols voice asking you “come sit down deary, we can then go though your cv together.” You remember where you are & you join Mr & Mrs York at the circular table to discuss why you are even a candidates for this job. This does mean facing David & making eye contract as you answer his questions. Maybe you can just focus on Carol, not that you think you can actually concentrate on anything at all.

You take your seat ready for their questions. You look nervous but you can easily pass it on for interview nerves, not the fact that the man sitting opposite you is stunningly handsome & that you are wondering how good his plump lips would feel on your pussy, lapping away at your clit as you beg him for more. You need to remember why you are here, for an interview, not to gawp at your possible employer.

“So…” Carols starts with some pretty mundane questions about your back ground & education, all the old chestnuts from a classic interview. You answer them well & you see David roll his eyes a little at them. At question 5 he interjects.

“Why apply for this role?” He asks “clearly your into art, graphics & design, your cv screams it, why apply to be a house keeper?” He has a very good point & it throws you a little bit, but you have a prepared answer which probably isn’t one that they will appreciate but is honest.

“The job said beck & call but free time & support whenever it’s needed. Most normal jobs want a 8:30 to 6 that I apply for. Once you add a commute & eating in, that’s no home time. Here you have said weekends & yea there are early starts but you said support in whatever else I need. I’m sure that there will be days you just need me to pick your kids up & do dinner & some days when you need me to stay over, but I’m sure that when I’m not needed I would have the time to create some art, get my creative juices flowing again. I also think it would be good for your kids if you allowed them, to join me working on my art. A good creative outlet from them, let them find another type of inspiration.” David looks inquisitively at you looking you up & down “I know that wasn’t the answer you wanted, but I’m honest & im here to support you. I want to make sure that when I’m here, all you need to stress about is what’s going on in your own mind, not a grocery run or cooking pasta or running errands. I want you to stress about just your work & normal life like the rest of the world does” that’s when you see a small smirk across David’s face as you finish this statement with “I’m here for all your needs & to attend to you all”. His eyes dart across you not impressed just by your words but by your attitude & willingness.

“Art?” Carol chirps up before he can respond, he mouth & sentence hanging in mid air before he could even get the words out “that would be good for the kids for sure” she then talks about how she like minimal art but can’t find the right thing for the house to put up. A few more mundane questions happen before David then asks “Do you have first aid or life saving courses under your belt? Obviously with 2 small girls who you will meet another day, if we think you’re suitable, bumps & bruises happen all the time. You’re okay with looking after them if they cut themselves? you’re not going to freak out at a bit of sick or blood?” David is asking this because it’s part of the interview, but he knows it’s likely at some point you will find out what he does for a living. He’s an assassin, one of the best in the world, & he knows there maybe a day soon when he needs your help to stitch him up or take him to hospital.

“Yes I can do that, I have a friend who has fits, we as a group all make sure we stay up to date with as much as we can. I’m happy to take more courses if you need me too.” Is your reply. Firm & confident. You know it’s been a while since you’ve done a course in this but you still know what to do. Nothing your innocent king think, that an ice pack or a plaster can’t solve.

The interview starts to draw to a close & they start talking to you about your life in general. “Obviously there maybe a few days when we need you to stay over if you get this job to take the girls to nursery & school early if were not both back, or if you’ve stayed late” Carol implys “would that be okay? Are you comfortable with that? We have Cctv in every room so you will always be safe here without us”

“Yes Mrs York” your mind wonders why they have cctv but that’s a question for another day, not one when your trying to get a job “would my boyfriend be able to stay over, if I needed him too? It wouldn’t be something I would do until we were all completely comfortable with each other & you trust me & id let you meet him first” David raises an eyebrow when the word boyfriend is brought up “how serious is your boyfriend?” He asks “David!” Carol scoffs & playfully hits him “that’s none of your business” she say before he reply “if he’s a serious man in her life, I see there being no problem, stability means loyalty & trust, but if he’s just a fuck buddy then that raises more questions for me” you look a bit shocked. You’ve never been to an interview before where the interviewer has sworn let alone use the word fuck. He clearly is testing you to get a reaction from you. “I’ve been with him 18months” you reply calmly like you have done every question. “Harry & I have talked about moving in together soon, so that’s how loyal I am” David nods “well answered” he states writing the word not available on his own notes, which you don’t see.

The final question they ask you is if you have any questions for them at this stage. They have been clear throughout the interview that there would be a second interview with the girls on Sunday, if today went well to see how you get on with them & they have been very frank about what they expect from you. You sit there for a second & then ask something bold, which might mean you don’t get a call back for another day. “why interview me? You said yourself I’m not a house keeper or have nanny experience, why ask me?” Carol has a small chuckle & goes to answer but David buts in.

“We’ve interviewed 4 other people before you, all Nanny’s or house keeper, but none had any idea of what the real world is. We want our kids to have some of that in their lives & your CV was the next one on the pile. You have life experience & from what you’ve told us about you today, you have had some struggles in the past & you just bring across this soothing calm approach now we’ve met you, don’t you agree darling?” He asks his wife stroking her hand looking lovingly at her “yes dear” she says “we wanted to see what the rest of the world offered, not just those that fall into that bracket” you all just nod in agreement with each other. There is a very strong vibe & connection here & you think that maybe you do stand a chance, just as long as you connect with those girls. Or maybe you are just falling deeper for the talk dark & handsome man sitting opposite you. Each time those large rich brown eyes glance at you, you feel seen.

The Yorks then finish up & David looks at his phone. Carol shakes your hand & asks if you’re free at 3pm on Sunday to meet the girls & have early dinner with them, which you accept. You have a second interview in the bag. David nods. “I’ll walk her out honey, I need to make my way to the actual office” David says & you thank Carol, grab your coat & have David walk you out of the house. His hand pushes you forward touching the lower of your back. Not to low but enough to make you blush, but enough that to yourself it shows that this man has an effect on you. Thank god you are walking in front of him & he can’t see the true effect he has on you.

“I just want you to know…” David says as he locks the front door behind him & stands next to his car “that we’ve been looking for a house keeper for a while & a nanny more recently. Carol has hired some but most of them just aren’t what they say they are at the interview. You on the other hand, there’s something about you. Your normal & I think you will bring stability to our house & help influence our kids as they grow as well. I don’t tend to trust people, my line of work doesn’t allow me to, but there’s something I can see in you, that makes me know that I can trust you with my families & my own life.” He states.

“Wow Mr York” you’re a little stunned at that revelation “that means something that you’ve picked that up so quickly, thank you”

“Please it’s David, I actually prefer Dave but David or Mr York is fine” he says shuffling a bit. “I’m good at picking up on peoples strengths & weaknesses it’s part of the job I do, & from the last hour, the only weakness I see in you, is that you care too much & that’s what I need for my family” you blush as he says these words to you. No one’s ever said that a weakness of yours is what they need. This desirable man has a way of making you feel so much in so few words. He’s very to the point & direct. You can tell he’s a man who gets what he wants, no matter what.

A few awkward moments of silence happen between you before you both snap out of it. Daves been thinking about how well you’re going to look after his family. He finds you attractive & wonders how loyal & good your boyfriend really is to you & if he might, one day, be needed to pick up your emotional pieces should it all go wrong with him. “I should really get going now Mr York & you said you needed to get to your own office, so please don’t let me keep you” you offer you hand which he firmly shakes & through that connection of his large palm on your dainty hand, a small soft smile comes from his dark brown eyes. “Thank you for the opportunity” you say “ooh no the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart” he responds. That cute nickname makes you smile which he can see as bright as the sun. “I’m already looking forward to seeing you meet the girls on Sunday, im sure you will be the most attentive person we’ve had so far, I can just feel it in my bones.” He says, hands parting & you both sigh & get in your separate cars. You head home & Dave heads to the office.

1 week, later the phone rings while your out for lunch with friends. “Sorry guys, be back in 3minutes” you leave them & head to the bathroom of the cafe to take the call.

“Hello”

“Ahh it’s Mr York”

“Mr York… hi how are you?” Just his voice down the phone has you feeling flush & warm, how can he do that.

“I’m even better now, I’ve just hired a new house keeper”

Your face drops down the phone.

“It’s you”

“What!?” You let out an over the top excited screech

“All the girls have talked about since Sunday, has been making art & playing with you & your pasta was half decent on Sunday night, so what do you say… are you free tonight to come & see us to sign & be our house keeper & nanny & discus when you will start?” He asks, he himself is also excited to have you work for him. He’s not lying when he says how excited the girls have been, but he is drawn to you & he can’t explain why.

“Yes Mr York, what time?” You just about get the word out.

“7pm, don’t worry it’s Wednesday, I cook on Wednesdays, you’ll always have that night off from cooking” he laughs a little down the phone.

“Sounds perfect Mr York, I will see you tonight”

Once the call is over, you rush back to your friends & tell them you got the job. Suddenly the orange juices you were all having are now Buck’s Fizz as your friends celebrate your new job with you. “To attending the needs of the Yorks” you toast & your friends cheer. You have no idea exactly what needs you are about to attend, ignorance for now is completely bliss & will remain that way for a little while.

[pepsi-maxwell]

happy birthday to me!! premier league cmjf that is going NOWHERE. this is IT. just a snippet that will not be continued EVER

cut for length, sfw, ~870 words

-

» Stop chatting shit about my pass rate, you talentless hack. Just because you're not on the field anymore and your jealous

Punk looks at his phone. Looks at the timestamp on the message; 1:06am, and the time on his phone, 5:52am, and then wonders how the fuck Friedman got his phone number to send him this directly.

He recites an internal mantra about professionalism, impartiality, and conducting himself well in any work done outside of the TV studio, and then ignores all of it in favour of composing a reply.

« Don't think I won't block you here as well as twitter. You're on a team, not a one-man show, and I know your coaches have told you about this

He hits send and almost immediately regrets it because the kid does have coaches to teach him this, and he isn’t one of them. His current job is to give post-match analysis on a fucking football highlights show, be a pundit playing off a couple others, not to have every word he says about City’s, admittedly, top centre-forward be dissected by the man himself.

The universal symbol of a furiously typed response appears, and Punk cuts him off with a quick message of his own.

« Go to sleep, Max

Hopes the use of his first name might actually encourage it, but instead, five minutes later, his phone vibrates.

» Fuck OFF, Takeshita wasn't in position to receive and we would of gifted it to Zayn if I passed it which I'm sure you would be THRILLED [1/2]

» about, you're biases for your old team are showing yet again you old dickhead!!! [2/2]

He presses his hand to his face, rubbing at his closed eyelids because he isn’t getting into an argument with City’s fastest rising star at arse-o’clock in the fucking morning, but apparently, he is.

…Well, if he’s going to get into it, he can at least do it caffeinated.

He pushes himself out of bed, tests his weight on his bad knee, the same way he does every morning. Larry stirs, hopping off the bed, probably in hopes of a walk, and Punk looks out of the window at the sheets of rain pouring from a sky that would be slate-grey if the sun were up. Thinks, maybe not this morning, bud.

He makes for the kitchen. Scoops out some ground coffee, tamps it down in the portafilter before mounting it in the machine, checking the water in the back, and pressing the button.

By the time he’s done all that there are another 3 texts in his inbox.

» Just because you were one of the greats before your decrepid body have out on you, don't think you know how the game has evolved in the last [1/3]

» seven years, I'm the past present and future of this fucking sport I don't need to pass you daft twat I just need to score goals and I've [2/3]

» scored more than you in less games, more goals + more possession + less games means I am BETTER THAN YOU. [3/3]

Punk rolls his eyes. It’s a good thing he’s a quality player. If it weren’t for his nightmarish attitude at times, he could be truly great.

Punk thinks he’d have done well in the game back in the nineties. A throwback to the old days of booting the ball down the field, rather than the more technical back and forth of the modern game.

The lax attitude to rules and on-pitch violence wouldn’t hurt, either.

« Record for number of yellow cards in a season too. Maybe you should try harder to not have your gorgeous fouls observed

He hits send and immediately realises his autocorrect mistake.

« Horrendous**. You could have shattered Garcia's knee, it was a disgusting tackle, and I see you didn't comment on me saying that on motd

Too late.

» "Gorgeous" lmao your such a fucking creep. Bet you get off on watching your own old tackles you freak

Another eye roll. This conversation is going nowhere, and as much as he wants to insinuate that Friedman has definitely got off watching Punk’s old matches, because he’s also seen those interviews, Punk’s poster on his wall, favourite player growing up and all that, those aren’t the sort of messages he wants to have to answer to on his next Match of the Day appearance. These are damning enough as they are.

« Stopping this here. Go to sleep.

He gets a 🖕 in response, but nothing else. Breathes a sigh of relief. Grabs his coffee and sits down at the kitchen counter, sipping at it, watching the rain belt at the patio doors.

His phone vibrates again on the table and he thinks, what now, before he sees it’s an email this time, and his heart jumps in his chest.

Skim-reads the whole thing, and then reads it again, in detail.

We look forward to you joining the team.

As a coach.

For Manchester City.

He isn’t thinking about Friedman. He isn’t thinking about Friedman at all, and he certainly isn’t thinking of the lessons he can teach him on actually being part of a team.

Isn’t thinking of having to deal with the little shit in person on a daily basis.

... it definitely beats Match of the Day, though.

[lyon-amore]

The half of me Chapter 1

Prologue

MC widened her eyes, remembering that moment twenty years ago. Strangely, it had returned to her memory. Although it was not surprising, she had been too strange for months, something was not right. She knew that feeling was not hers. She sat up in bed, letting out a sigh. That was already a thing of the past, everything was fine. Since that arrest, no more murders of children had occurred. Not in series at least, no matter how sad it sounded to say it.

She picked up her phone and looked at the messages. She had a special group with the Duskwood group to talk about Hannah's trial, which was not yet known when it was going to take place. It was quite a difficult case, almost all the evidence had already disappeared. There were only testimonials written by Hannah and Amy... And then there was Richy... She closed her eyes at the thought of him. It didn't matter anymore. She couldn't change what happened.

She also noticed the other group she had with them, plus her sister. Daliah. When she introduced her friends, they immediately took a liking her and so did she. Her twin sister had always been something of a magnet for making friends. It was a relief that despite everything that had happened as a child, she had managed to get over it and move on with her life. She chuckled as she read the conversation. Her sister really fit in better than her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daliah And then I said: eh, excuse me, but my eyes are up, not on the cupcakes 🙄

Jessy 🤭

Daliah The guy approached me just because he was bringing the cupcakes for the classes 😤

Dan Wait, isn't that some kind of code 'cupcakes' all this time? Were you really talking about cupcakes?

Cleo And what else did you want her to talk about, Dan? 😅

Daliah Oops! Dan! Please! Were you thinking about boobs? 😏

Dan Please! I'm not one of those! I know how to treat the ladies! Before I would have hit that guy for being a pig with you 🤜

Jessy A true gentleman our Dan All fixing it by force 🙄

Dan Some don't understand the good way, precious

Jessy 🤔 In that I give you the reason 😝 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC let out a laugh. Daliah really knew how to win people over. It could be said that she had ''stolen'' her friends. But she was glad. It was the first group of friends that she had and that she could share with her sister. She always had her. Always worrying about her. Daliah had been her whole world even though she had her own, with far more friends than she could imagine.

She decided to join the chat. There was still a bit left for the interview, she even had time to prepare. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC And I'll be happy to help you, Dan Who do we need to hit? 🤜 🤛

Daliah You? Hit? If you are a stick! They blow you and you fall 😋

MC OMG! Look how badly my sister treats me! What a shame!

Dan Well She is partly right

MC OOOMG! You too?! 😤

Jessy Calm down MC! I defend you from those two! 💪

----Lilly is online----

Lilly Really look at you guys being loud when you want to 🙄 I can't stop receiving notifications

MC Lilly, defend me from my sister!

Lilly Daliah Don't mess with MC

MC But put more effort! 😭

Lilly 😊 😉 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She put the phone aside and got out of bed to go shower. The sooner she could get ready, the less nervous she would be.

She made herself the coffee and looked at her phone again. She really looks like she's waiting for a special message. His message. But what nonsense, right? She herself had put up a barrier a long time ago. She had even deleted his chat. After alerting him that the FBI was in Grimrock, she received nothing. No message. She preferred it that way. It wasn't a good idea to get her hopes up with someone who might put her in danger. But Nymos' chat was still there, watching her with that red eye in the profile picture. She sometimes use it to write it down, as if it were a notepad. Many of those messages sent were ideas for songs that she had composed. She wondered how she hadn't deleted Nymos' chat if there was no danger around her anymore. It was just another lump in the chat.

But she left it. Vigilant.

Maybe it was her hope to talk to him again.

She shook her head and put her phone back in her jean pocket. She was making a fool of herself. She had already pushed her feelings back when she knew that he was being persecuted by the government. Even though it hurt her, she had to do it. For her sake.

It was almost time for the interview. It was the… Tenth? Eleventh? She had lost count, perhaps there had been more. When they found out who she was, many backed down when they saw that she was the MC of the controversy. Others let her at least work for a few weeks as a test. But they just needed someone to get things done for them before the inspector arrived. Her parents helped support her apartment and she hated it. She felt like a burden to them. It had been a burden on everyone since what had happened. Always looking out for her. And MC, looking out for her sister. Since childs. Together.

She arrived at the bar where she had posted her resume and waited for the owner. She was nervous, she didn't know how it was going to turn out.    "MC?" A woman appeared next to her, causing the young woman to get up to say hello "Hi, I’m Caterina, the owner."    "Hello, nice to meet you." the young MC put on her best smile, avoiding being nervous.    "Well…" the woman sat down and the brunette did the same. The owner had the girl's resume in her hands "It doesn't seem like you've lasted long enough in the last few jobs, what happened?"    "Oh, well…" MC she fixed her hair nervously "They just needed me to give them a hand-"    "Excuse me for breaking it out, but are you MC Gardner? The one about Hannah's kidnapping?" She asked narrowing her eyes, looking at her as if she were scanning her.   <<Here we go again.>>   "Yes, but-"   "Wow, that's amazing" Caterina laughed ", I'm sure our clients would like to see you then."    MC shook her head, not understanding what she was hearing. Did she want to be her carnival monkey?    "Excuse me, but how would the clients like to see me?" She asked a little awkwardly.    "Come on Miss Gardner" the woman tossed her resume on the table, sliding it over ", don't you think that would be a great deal?" You working here, we earn a lot of money having the heroine of Duskwood" she leaned on the table with a feline smile ". We would both make a lot of money, people love these detective stories."    MC sighed, scratching the side of her forehead. They were there again, seeing only the girl who saved Hannah. Not a normal person.    "And everyone is curious about the hacker involved" MC looked at her upon hearing those words ". My goodness, when the news broke that even the FBI was in that place because they were looking for that criminal, the world exploded. Where is he now? You know?"    It was not the first time that someone asked her about that mysterious man that the FBI was looking for. Everyone was curious why a criminal was also involved in Hannah's case. The young woman sighed. She had to relax.    "The truth is that I don't know what you are talking about." the brunette said coldly, with a touch of pain in her voice.    "Well, the FBI questioned you, right?" The woman made herself comfortable, as if she were enjoying an action movie "There was a lot of talk in the press" MC felt that her whole body was beginning to tense up. She wanted to leave ". Between us. Did you have sex with him? Was it exciting to be with a criminal?"     MC got up from the table, grabbing her bag and her jacket. Uncomfortable.    "I'm sorry, but I think I'm done with this job." She was saying as she left.    "Okay, I'm sorry" Caterina stood up, moving closer to her ". I won't name him again, but think about it!" She took her shoulders, shaking her slowly "We would earn a lot of money if you work here, you would take 40% more than the rest of the waiters, what do you say?"     She licked her lips, now dry from being nervous.    "I'll think about it." MC finally answered, removing her hands from her shoulders.    "Think about it before the end of the week" the woman smiled at her ". But I can raise the offer if you want."    "As I said" MC placed her hand on the door, opening it ", I'll think about it."    She left there taking strong and fast steps, wanting to get away from her.

She felt severe pain in her chest. She didn't want to know about him. He had abandoned her, leaving her with the weight of his responsibility. Besides, she hadn't even seen him! Never! How to trust him? In someone who had given her a lifetime of recognition for being a possible accomplice to a criminal? Perhaps it was her resentment that it was talking about because he left her worried, not knowing if he was okay, if he needed help, and if everything had been a lie? What if since he had already rescued Hannah, they would no longer need to maintain contact? She thought that she could at least have him as her friend, but not even if she wants that, he was gone, he had vanished like smoke. And she hoped he would stay that way.

She took out her phone to tell the group. Well... she wouldn't go into details that she had taken an interest in him, she preferred not to talk to them about that person. And more with Lilly in the group, still worried. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC Bad and sad news The owner only wanted me to earn money for who I am 😒

----Cleo is online----

Cleo Wow, I'm so sorry ☹️

MC No matter

----Dan is online---- ----Lilly is online---- ----Daliah is online----

Dan But what's wrong with everyone? Why so interested in what you did after a year?

MC Because I live in a small town? And here the news flies like Duskwood Or worse 😑

Daliah TRUE I still remember how the rumor spread that the postwoman and the priest had had sex in his sister's barn 😂

----Jessy is online----

Jessy What what?! 😱

Lilly I think now I'm much happier to be from Duskwood...

MC 😩 Seriously, sometimes I think that I should leave this cursed town…

Daliah No, I go first and through the big door as an actress 💅

Jessy But then, you didn't get the job? Was it all a trap? 😔

MC Yeah Ugh… Well, I'll go home... I have to record some demos…

Daliah Wait! I go to your house to see you and we talk about it OK?

MC OK Goodbye to the rest then

Cleo Remember that you can also come to Duskwood if you need to clear your head a bit 😟

MC Thank you Cleo I will surely go this weekend

Dan Great, I'll go buy the drinks then! 😎 Daliah, you will come too, won't you?

Daliah Mmm… We'll see if I can 🤔

Jessy Cheer up MC Then we talk about it? 😊

MC Yes ok...

Lilly See you later MC 🙁 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She put the phone away, holding her breath. It was lucky that she at least had them to carry on.

Once at home, she left her shoes lying at the entrance, going towards her room, to pick up the guitar from next to the bed and preparing the microphone and the computer to record.

Soft notes came out of that instrument. She had been composing that melody for a long time. He had him in her head and he wouldn't go away, like an implanted memory.    "If my fear had not prevailed" she began to sing softly, words that had suddenly appeared in her head "Would I have been able to tell you what I feel?"     She stopped playing the guitar, noticing what she had said. She sighed and leaned against the instrument, trying to figure out what was wrong with her now. She had said that she would not think of him. But there was that little regret. When she heard the doorbell, she shook her head, ignoring those thoughts. She got up straight to the door. She had to be Daliah.

Opening it, she saw that her sister's brown hair had turned dark blonde and short, she stared at her in amazement.    “My twin sensors were telling me you weren't okay.” Daliah said, as soon as she opened the door.    "But what have you done to yourself?" MC asked smiling, touching her sister's soft hair.    "Do you like it?" Daliah entered her house, posing later like a model "I've been at the hairdresser's all morning, I needed…" she began to think, snapping her fingers "A change, dazzling" she pouted, like a model.    MC laughed, hugging her sister. Daliah hugged her back, stroking her sister's back lovingly. Just as she thought, MC was not fine. She could feel it in the strong hug that she gave her, unable to separate from her.    "Okay, let's go." she separated her, putting a red mask on her eyes, taking her hand to walk out the door while she took her keys from the key ring on the wall.    "Wait!" MC raised the mask, returning to her apartment "I'm not wearing shoes!"    "Well, put them on and don't take this off." She lowered the mask, with a laugh "I have a surprise!"    "Surprises don't suit me much..."    "This one will go!"     MC raised the mask again, looking at her sister with half-closed eyes.    "Are you taking me to meet Chris Hemsworth?"    "MC, if I knew Chris Hemsworth, the last thing I would do is introduce him to you." Daliah replied, tapping her on the shoulder.     Both sisters laughed and MC put her mask back on with her shoes already on.

During the car ride, they began to sing, forgetting any worries. Without Daliah, she surely would have stayed in bed continuing to write sad songs. Without Daliah, surely everything that happened would not have been handled well. Her sister was her best friend, the most important person in the world. Both were a great strength.

    "Okay, we're here." Daliah waved her hand in front of the mask, checking to see if she could see anything.    "Are you fanning me?" MC asked with a laugh.    "I wanted to check if you didn't see anything."    "And do you do it now and not before leaving?"    "I was in a hurry, you can't expect me to do everything one step at a time."     MC shook her head, removing the belt. Daliah got out first to help her sister out of the car so she wouldn't trip. The brunette extended her arms, trying to guide herself by touch, thus touching an older man in the street. Which caused the blonde to laugh.    "I'm sorry, sir" she took her sister's hands, lowering them ". Careful or they'll sue you for harassment."    “Come on Daliah, can I take off my mask now?” She reached for the garment, but she was stopped by her sister.    "No, not yet."     They took a few steps forward and stopped. Daliah took out some keys and MC tried to find out what it was about. She had raised some kind of metal blind. Where were they?    "Just a little..." She heard other keys and how she opened a door "Almost, now we have to go in." she pushed her slowly, entering a cold place.    "Dahlia, come on-"     The blonde sister took off her mask and the brunette stared at the place. It was a store with salmon-colored walls and stickers with golden birds all over the wall. There were some vintage looking white bookshelves and a chandelier with several crystals.    "What is this?" MC asked, looking all surprised. It was a beautiful and very delicate place.    "Our new store." her sister replied, handing her the key.     MC looked doubtful, not believing what she was hearing. She held out her hand, accepting the keys. Even that seemed old.    "I don't get it." she looked at the blonde again, confused.    "Mom had been wanting to open an antiques store for some time" Daliah began to walk, showing her sister the place "and we were talking about how hard it is to find a job in this gossipy town" MC laughed, holding back tears ", so from now on, you and mom are going to run this place. A… Small family business."     MC started to cry more, hugging her sister. The blonde returned the hug, with a smile.

Daliah separated her and made a signal for her to wait, going to another room. MC heard how she dragged something from her and saw her coming out with a white chair, trying to move it.    "Yeah... Almost..." Daliah said between shoving.    "And then I'm the stick." MC laughed, approaching her to help her.     They both managed to pick it up and place it in front of where the counter was supposed to be, sitting on it and looking at the wide, shiny window, with people on the street walking past.    "Thanks Daliah" MC looked at her sister with a smile ", I needed to get out of that apartment for a bit."    "Let me guess." Daliah placed her hands on her head, concentrating ". You were thinking about… That creepy guy again, right?"     The brunette avoided looking at her. Yes, she had been right.    "Only because the owner of the bar has named him" answered MC annoyed ", not because I wanted to."    "Ugh, when will the people of this town learn to keep their mouths shut?" Daliah threw her head back, letting out a big sigh "But hey, it doesn't matter, Because why? You no longer have to look for a job."    "Yes, this will come in handy." MC continued to look at the store, with a still indelible smile.    "And this weekend, the opening party" her sister tapped her on the leg, to get her attention ", we're going to invite your friends, mine, mom's friends… It's going to be a great party!"     MC nodded. Obviously there was good for Daliah behind all of this.    "I knew you were going to do something like that" laughed MC, tapping her face with her finger ", if you don't have a party, you're not satisfied."    "Hey! It's to celebrate that we're saving your life from her" she stopped her hands, placing them on her legs, so that she behaved like a good girl "and so I have an excuse to invite Phil."    "No."    "Yes."    "Nooo…"    "What's wrong?" the blonde asked with a mischievous smile.     MC raised her hands to her head. She didn't like Phil at all. Knowing the reputation he had in Duskwood, she didn't even want to think about what would happen if she invited him to Rosenschwarz on top of that. For him, a place where no woman knew his name, surely it was going to be "a day of hunting" perfect.    "That guy is an idiot" answered MC, looking at her with a disgusted face ", the only thing that he has come to treat well in his whole life has been the bar."    "Well" Daliah shrugged, smiling mischievously ", at least he's not bad when you fuck with him."     MC's eyes widened so much that it looked like they were going to pop out. She couldn't believe that news. And just now! Because counting, they only saw each other twice, the first when he got out of jail and the second when she asked to accompany her to Duskwood.    "No…" MC repeated again "Tell me you haven't slept with him?"    "The poor thing needed a little contact when he got out of jail-"    "Nope, I don't want to hear it." MC covered her ears, shaking her head.     Daliah laughed, resting her head on her shoulder.    "And little sister, you don't know what you're missing. How he moves in bed!"    "Daliah, you're crazy!" MC pushed her, but gently.     The blonde laughed, pushing her in the same way.    "I like him" MC looked at her sister, not believing what she was hearing ". I know, he's not a ''Prince Charming'', but I don't know…” she twisted her mouth, thinking.    "Have you fallen in love with him?" MC asked curiously, leaning on the back of the sofa.    "I wouldn't say I'm in love" Daliah leaned in as well, looking at her sister ". You know how my last relationship was..."    “You never told me what happened with Elliot and why you left him."    "We just weren't looking for the same thing" the blonde stretched, with a smile "and with Phil, I don't have to worry about that, I can just have him as a fuck buddy and that's it."     MC rolled his eyes, ruffling her hair.    "This is abuse!" Daliah exclaimed, with a laugh "You can't mistreat my new hairstyle like that!"    "Then go report me to Elliot." MC stood up, offering her hand to help her get up from the sofa "Are you coming home? I can prepare the lasagna that you like."    "I can't, I'd have to go to class now" She looked at her cell phone and sighed ". We have to prepare for one last final class project, a horror short movie” She put the phone away and now looked at her sister ". But I can have that lasagna for dinner."    "Perfect then."

They both left the store, closing it again. MC looked at Daliah, concerned. She didn't think a horror movie was good for her, knowing that she was still going to therapy.    "Hey Daliah" MC tapped on the car, hesitating a little whether to tell her or not "Are you okay?"    "Yes" her sister answered, approaching the car ", why do you ask?"    "I don't know" she shrugged her shoulders, a little uncomfortable ". I've been dreaming about what happened for months, from when we were little girls and I wondered if... If something worried you."    Daliah swallowed hard. Those memories were a bit forgettable, but she coped as best she could. In the end she nodded, with a small smile.    "Don't worry, MC" Daliah replied, opening the car ", it's normal that sometimes I remember it."    They got into the car and MC continued to look at her with even more concern. She sensed that something wasn't right, but knowing that if she kept asking questions she could make it worse, she decided it was best to wait until she wanted to talk about it.    “I feel like listening to Taylor Swift.” Daliah said, changing the subject “What do you think?    "You're the driver, you set the rules." MC raised her hands in surrender.    "Well, then to the great Taylor Swift." she smiled, searching her phone, before starting off.

As before, they sang again at the top of their lungs, although perhaps to relieve the weight that each one felt in her chest. They both felt each other's concern, so it was a bit difficult for them to ignore it. But in order not to worry each other, they preferred to wait until everything was calm. With the class project and her disappointment at the interview, perhaps it was better to leave it to talk about it over dinner.

 When she got home, she noticed thats he had left the program recording. MC heaved a big sigh, looking at the recording time.    "I was going to delete it anyway." she said, hearing that she had managed to record the neighbors.     She reset the recording to zero and picked up the guitar. This time, she began to think about her new store. In the gift her sister had given her. A joy that day. Her sister was a real hero, not her.

While MC was preparing dinner for that night, she received a message from Jessy. The redhead had become her first best friend —after her sister— and also, that they both shared a secret that they hadn't told anyone. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jessy I just got an invite from Daliah You are going to open a store! 😲 😲

MC YEAH! 😄 My mother and sister have kept it from me all this time! Job hunting is over! I will have my own business! 🥳

Jessy That's great! Well, it is clear that she has invited all of us, because when we have met, we have been talking about it Although in my invitation I put an extra ''Try to convince Phil to come over 🙏 😏''

MC Oh… This girl...

Jessy Do they have something?

MC I have no idea 🤷‍♀️ But if she's happy that he's going, then there's no problem with me.

Jessy Phil was pleased that she remembered him So I guess he will go 🤭

MC My worst nightmare… Let those two pair up...

Jessy Maybe Daliah will help him settle down

MC If that's possible, then I crown her as Saint Daliah 😂

Jessy I also wanted to tell you something else The case of Hannah's kidnapping is still open They keep wondering why they didn't find two bodies instead of one,

MC Did you tell them that it was Richy?

Jessy No… I have not dared... And still I feel bad not telling it But at the same time… I don't dare say it was him...

MC I know… I cannot either… I still find it hard to believe it was Richy... I don't know… We're supposed to get along...

Jessy And you two did! Perhaps… In other circumstances, he would have dared….

MC Dare what?

Jessy Nothing, forget it I have to go I have a date

MC OH! With who??? 😲

Jessy Ha, ha! Is a secret 😝 We'll talk tomorrow 👋 😊 

MC I will want the details!!! 😋

Jessy Yeah, yeah 🤭

----Jessy is offline---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC put music on after talking to Jessy. She needed to focus. And what better than preparing dinner with music? She decided to put up a playlist where there was no romance at all. She didn't want to be distracted by the thoughts of him again.    “Daliah and Phil…” she murmured, preparing the lasagna pasta “The world is too crazy for me."

She waited and waited. Daliah was running late for dinner.

She called on the phone, worried. But she didn't pick up the phone. Getting more worried, she texted him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC Daliah, where are you? Seriously, I'm worrying... Call me soon ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC began to walk around the room, winding a lock around her finger, pulling a little on it. Something inside her was telling her something was wrong. Her sister was not one to respond late.

Hearing the message notification tone, she did not hesitate to pick up the phone twice. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daliah I'm fine, troublesome! I have been distracted by a very cute boy 🤭

MC Daliah! 😩

Daliah I'm sorry But I think I won't be able to make it to dinner

MC Oh no… Seriously? 😑

Daliah Forgive me, okay? 🙏

MC Alright…

Daliah And another thing!

MC Yeah?

Daliah I want you to know that you're cool Remember that, ok?

MC ?? Sure But what is this about now?

Daliah I don't know I wanted to say it

MC You're cooler than me

Daliah I know But that we both know  😜 Goodbye MC

MC See you tomorrow Daliah

----Daliah is offline---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   "Well, she's missing it" MC smiled, watching the dinner ". Well, I'll save a little for tomorrow."

She began to stir in her sleep. In her dreams, she managed to see a large lake. She recognized it. Lake Mount. Named for the wild horses that would come to drink water. She felt that something was wrong. Her heart was beating fast and her breathing was rough. That lake terrified her. But that terror was different. It wasn't her terror. Why did she dream of the past again? And more than one place that she had never set foot on. Since that case, she didn’t dare to step on that place. Something or someone tugged at her, shoving her by the ankle into the lake. She tried to grab the ground with her nails, breaking them and staining the floor with blood. As soon as she noticed the water, on her body, she tried to catch air to breathe underwater.

She didn't know what happened, but it didn't work. She couldn't breathe. She coughed as if she had water in her lungs.

She opened her eyes to the ringing of the phone. She wouldn't stop shaking. Her phone rested next to the bed, on the nightstand. She hadn't turned it off like those months before. That discomfort still weighed on her. And, unfortunately, that night the discomfort, the weight of feeling empty, it was present.

Something had happened.

The phone continued to ring. She decided to take it.    “Hello?” she asked shakily. No one called at those hours just to say hello.    "Miss MC Gardner?"    "Yes, it's me" MC recognized the man's voice, but he didn't remember it from where.    "I'm Police Officer Otis Lang" That name was like flipping a switch. She started to cry even before he told her the next thing ". I'm sorry to break it to you, but we think we found the body of your sister Daliah and we need you to identify her."     That's when, with those words, another part of her had vanished.

Chapter 2

[atthegeniusfactory]

untitled

wonwoo briefs him one more time about the interview, reminding him that he has to finish on time so they could catch his flight to los angeles at night. he reads the script for him again as he sat at the back of the car sipping his coffee. 

today marks the sixth year anniversary of writer lee jihoon. today he will also reveal the end of his series because tomorrow, jihoon hopes he could finally write something else.

"ji, are you really sure about this? the questions, you sure you will answer all of them?" wonwoo asked him one last time when he gets his make-up done. 

"you look more nervous than i am." jihoon tried to sound like he isn’t on the verge of running away but the faint tone of uncertainty could not escape wonwoo's ear. 

"you know i'm proud of you, yeah? not just as your manager but as your best friend first too." jihoon understands and he could only smile at him. a genuine one because he, too, is actually proud of himself. finally. 

the interview goes on as written on the script. seungcheol is one of the journalists he became closed with throughout his career. jihoon trusts him enough to write only what is necessary and true. the set feels more comfortable than he expected and he was glad. jihoon smiles when he was asked about his fans and their reactions on his novels. it was also his cue that the more awaited questions will follow soon. 

"and you know you're fans have been intrigued about you and your writing process. many have been asking about the famous lee jihoon's love story that allows him to be able to write relatable characters with heart warming stories. today we will finally hear you answering these questions. i feel so grateful to be the one asking and hearing it first!" jihoon smiles through it all as seungcheol exclaimed looking at him then back at the camera teasing their future viewers. he discreetly takes a deep breath and when he does, his anxious eyes met his best friend’s encouraging ones. it's time. 

"and of course i'll go straight with the most asked question, what is lee jihoon's love story?" 

✳︎✳︎✳︎✳︎✳︎

it happened when he was twenty one and in a club. he was the youngest of the group and the last to officially turn as a legal adult. his college friends, if he can call them that, back then was so firm on making him celebrate his legality “the true man's way,” drinking liquors and smoking cigarettes that are not bought with a fake id. 

they were so adamant on having jihoon break his rules—no drinking alcohols, no smoking, no piercings and tattoos. jihoon had found excuses before when he was invited to sneak inside bars or take five minute cigarette breaks in between classes at the back of their building. 

call it peer pressure. he can't leave the group because then he would be alone. he thought it was easier to pretend to fit in and be part of something than be alone and have everyone look pity on you. jihoon convinces himself that they were actually fun to be with for the most part. they're good people, he tells himself even after he found out that there's a group chat of everyone except for him. 

and just so they could stop bothering him, he agreed to go to a club in hongdae. tells himself this is the last time he will see them anyway. they are graduating in two months and they would definitely cut ties with him after. 

not even forty minutes after they entered, jihoon finds himself searching for the exit. he was able to dodge all the drinks passed to him. he was tempted at one point because he paid for half of it but then lets it go. he was introduced to different people, mostly girls who act like they have known him since forever, praising him for his studies and more for his muscles. jihoon started working out and lifting weights last month and he thinks he's making progress if not for the girls trying to touch him up everywhere. 

he saw the red exit sign and was almost relieved to be finally out of that clammy place but only to be greeted by the smell of burnt fog and cigarette butts on the ground. jihoon quickly scrunched his nose and waved his hand to dismiss the smoke coming his way. 

"wrong exit, buddy.” jihoon turned to the only person standing there with him. 

he watched as the blonde man takes one last hit of his smoke before turning around to let it out. jihoon raised his brow at that but thanked him in his mind. he stood there with no idea of what else to do aside from having to watch the other threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. 

he eyed the blonde man who is certainly taller than him given the fact that jihoon is below average of what society perceives as a standard for a man's height. it was dimly lit in the area except for one blinking light bulb above the exit door. he tried to move himself a little to the left so he could see the man's face more. 

it was the first time, ever, that night that jihoon thinks he sees a man so beautiful that no other girl inside that stuffy room could compare. 

the man moves around to take a lollipop out of the front of pocket of his plaid shirt and a faint light shined on his face. jihoon noticed his eyes, small and slanting slightly upward on a perfect angle that if he smiled, jihoon swears it would look like a clock at exactly 10:10. 

when the stranger in front of him took the lollipop to his lips, jihoon almost wanted to snatch some air. his thin lips looked a little pouting, quite inviting if jihoon tried to spend more time staring at it. his jaws could definitely cut paper but his cheeks. when the man popped the lollipop on one side, jihoon could almost feel how soft and squishy his cheeks were. 

he was taken aback when someone opened the door and he was almost hit by it. two men stood behind him and started lighting their cigarettes. jihoon looked lost, literally because he doesn't know the place.

the first mistake he did that night was to agree to his friends in coming along. second was looking up at the blonde man in front of him at that moment and following him out in the streets. 

opposite of what he expected to happen, which was similar to a scene picked straight out of a thriller movie, the blonde man seemed decent enough. they walked together with a good distance between them. he also offered a vanilla flavored lollipop to which jihoon gladly accepted. the blonde man only asked him if he was okay when they were two blocks away from the club and to a much quieter street. jihoon only nodded and no one dared to talk the entire time after.

honestly, jihoon has no idea why he kept following the man and why the other does not look bothered at all. he wanted to break the ice first, maybe introduce himself or ask for his name so he could stop calling him blonde man in his head and thank him properly. but he’s not good at meeting new people and there’s a lollipop stuck in his mouth.

they stopped at a convenience store not long after and before jihoon could take the candy off his mouth and talk, the blonde man has already turned his back walking on the same street they just went to. 

jihoon thought it was his third mistake that night, not getting his name or his number.

life continued for jihoon and he eventually forgot about the blonde man. he graduated, spent a month back in busan to be with his mom, got his first job as a production assistant and then moved back permanently to seoul.

jihoon was able to build a new routine. he wakes up at 6, leaves his apartment at 7, and reach their office at 7:45. sometimes he eats lunch with jeonghan and wonwoo, his workmates who he found himself genuinely liking. most days he eats alone on the way to sets or shoots. he comes home at 9, sleeps at 11, and the cycle continues.

he could tell how much different his life is now just because he is surrounded with people who doesn’t force him to open up and do things he doesn’t like to. jihoon learned not to care about what people thinks of him. somehow. he just really wants to live freely. 

some nights jeonghan would invite him for a drink with his other friends and jihoon learned how to say no. jeonghan did not ask more when he said he doesn’t drink, but he would still always invite him nonetheless.

jihoon found himself tagging along with wonwoo a lot more specially on saturdays. one time during lunch, wonwoo asked him if he likes to play computer games and he said yes. next thing he knew, he is sitting in a pc bang fighting with wonwoo because he lost in a match. it was the first time he learned about wonwoo and met mingyu, wonwoo’s boyfriend. 

jihoon was assigned to a new project and was lucky to be working with wonwoo and jeonghan. it was for a tv campaign promoting korea’s music and dance. they had to travel and shoot at five different sites for this project and he’s just relieved that he has wonwoo and jeonghan beside him to share the struggles. 

the last site for the shoot was in busan. everyone were busy and dreading for it to end already. the project was really good, from the concept, the message, the locations, the sets, and even the hired singers and dancers. if jihoon was asked, he would say it’s one of his favorite yet.

especially when he locked eyes with the man who just came in. jihoon might have forgotten about the existence of the blonde man but definitely not those eyes.

and he was not blonde anymore. he has his hair dyed in jet black, cut short with the sides fading. oh, and he has an eyebrow slit. jihoon stood there frozen and he saw as the realization hits the other man as well. his small eyes and thin lips both opening wider. if not for wonwoo who nudged jihoon’s side, he would have stayed there for hours. what’s there to be surprised about seeing the not-blonde man again? it was not like they shared something from the past.

the shoot went perfectly well just like the other times. jihoon learned that the man’s name is soonyoung and is a professional dancer based in pohang. he is the leader of the group moonwalkers who were invited for today’s shoot. jihoon noticed also how wonwoo and soonyoung seemed close to each other. he saw them talking and laughing lightly around each other. jihoon might have passed it off knowing that wonwoo handled contacting the artists, but wonwoo have not acted like this before with other clients. 

“didn’t know you’re close with them?” jihoon whispered beside wonwoo. they are standing behind the monitor watching soonyoung take his individual shots. 

"i'm friends with him. we were on the same circle in high school." wonwoo answered. then he looked at the shorter guy beside him who has his eyes glued to the monitor. if wonwoo raised a brow with a plotting smile on his face, jihoon would not have known. 

everyone bowed and clapped after the director shouted "it's a wrap!" sighs of relief and joy can be heard and they were all absolutely happy to be packing up. jihoon was busy talking with other heads and assistants, double checking if they completed all their shots and inserts. when they were done, wonwoo was quick to pull him on the side where a certain black haired man was standing anxiously. 

before jihoon could protest and understand what's happening, he was already standing in front of him. if he could just glare at wonwoo and smack him in the head right now, he would. 

"soons, this is jihoon. jihoon, soonyoung. there! i have done my job. you can now ask the other things to each other. don't act like kids please i know you are each other's type if not for the questions earlier. bye!" wonwoo had the audacity to laugh and push the two closer to each other before walking away. jihoon turned and wanted to protest at wonwoo but soonyoung called him. 

"jihoon." like there was a magic bound with his name. the way soonyoung said it, blanketed with warmth, tenderness and fondness. soft against the deepness of his voice. jihoon inhaled sharply before facing him. 

just like that night four years ago,  jihoon thinks (no, he knows) that he has never seen someone so beautiful and breathtaking like the man standing in front of him. 

"soonyoung."

jihoon knew better to get soonyoung's number before they separated ways that day. soonyoung beats him to it though. they stayed in contact, exchanging messages and greetings every day. from good morning! good luck with ur job today hope u dont get into a fight with one of ur bosses to good night rest well and relax your body i know you did so well today teaching the kids.

sometimes the two would meet if soonyoung travels to seoul for a few days of dance workshop or when jihoon was assigned near wherever soonyoung is dancing or teaching. the two learned a lot about the other. how jihoon can't eat (live) without coke on his side and how he wanted to pursue music at first. how soonyoung is quite (not) obsessed with tigers and started living independently at a young age to purse dance. the two talk endlessly, never not having stories to converse about. they talk but never about that first night. 

jihoon dragged himself out of their building. he is not one to initiate skinship unless he feels extremely drained and out of it. tonight was one of those night. clinging and leaning his head next to wonwoo who was indulging him of his antics and holding hands with jeonghan who finds everything annoyingly sweet. it was not all the time that jihoon gets to be like this with them or anyone else. 

"heads up." wonwoo shrugged his shoulder causing jihoon's head to bounce and earning a deathly glare from the smaller. still sporting an annoyed look on his face, jihoon looked to where wonwoo was pointing. 

there he saw soonyoung waving at him while leaning on his car. he saw how his smiles turned from a small, shy and gentle one to a big excited one, so big it takes up his whole face and made his eyes disappear. jihoon found it endearing. calming. heartwarming. jihoon felt free from all the heaviness weighing him down. 

jihoon thought he might have found a resting place in soonyoung's gentle and genuine smiles. 

it was a real surprise for soonyoung to be in seoul, standing in front of jihoon that night. they did not talk about meeting up this week or the next because soonyoung was busy for an upcoming competition and jihoon with a new project. 

but soonyoung drove to seoul tonight. not for the reason that he has a workshop to attend to, but because he simply wanted to see jihoon. 

they ordered chinese takeouts and drove near han river. from their frequent meet ups during the past months, they found a not-so-hidden area near the river. it was away from the usual spots people sit at to enjoy seoul at night, but not too quiet for it to feel shady and unsafe. 

they ate, talked, sometimes pausing and spending quiet moments to listen to the faint music from someone busking near them. 

"why are you here tonight?" jihoon have been itching to ask since he walked up to soonyoung earlier in front of their building. 

soonyoung did not hesitate to answer him truthfully, “i missed you.”

the music fade out and stopped and the people running and cycling in front of them paused midway, and all that jihoon could see in that moment was how happy and animated soonyoung looked while munching on a big piece of mandu (he tried to eat it in one go making his cheeks puff). all jihoon could see was how bright and light life has been since meeting the other: how there was a reason to wake up each morning because there would always be a good morning message waiting to be read, how there would be chats or voice messages in the middle of the day reminding him to breathe, eat, relax, and enjoy work, and how there would always be a “job well done today! good night, ji!” to end the day.

jihoon wanted to tell the same three words but he couldn’t, as if those words were leashed to his core. what was so wrong in telling a friend that you missed him? 

“i like you.”

those three words made the world around jihoon deafening and suffocating. suddenly the music was playing louder like the bass was placed right next to his ear and every booming goes straight into his heart and people were running frantically, distraught with thousands of thoughts going in on their minds, and jihoon was looking at the fifteen year old version of himself.

when he first had to entertain the idea of admiring another man. when he witnessed how the entire school mocked a boy for confessing to another upperman. when his cousins would tease him for his small figure and pale skin. when he tried to tell his mom about this one boy and he ended up going to a church camp for a week. when he tried his best to hide the blush on his cheeks everytime joshua, his senior, would invite him for a basketball game after class. and when he ran away fast from the gym when joshua said the same three words. 

back then, jihoon feared the consequences of confessing to another man. the look of disgust from other people, the possibility of his mother sending him back to camp, the never-ending teasing and mocking, and having to go through school without any friends.

and now, jihoon still fears it. he knows better but he still can’t overcome his fears.

so he kept dismissing soonyoung and his antics, kept rejecting the admiration the other was showing, kept saying no. it goes on for five years because soonyoung said he can wait and he will.

but soonyoung got tired too, and left. there was nothing big and dramatic with how he said goodbye. jihoon knew that eventually the other will get tired of him, of waiting. somehow, he expected it to come.

soonyoung showed up in front of his apartment unexpectedly. he knew he was in seoul for a few days to attend a dance workshop and today was his last day. they had agreed they could not meet up because of their schedules and would just plan for another trip. 

so jihoon was surprised when he heard his doorbell in the middle of the night. he was confused when he saw soonyoung from the camera monitor. he definitely knew the passcode to jihoon’s apartment and would sometimes even invite himself in so why was he ringing his doorbell this time. jihoon stood uncomfortably when he opened the door for him and was not welcomed by a big yet gentle crushing hug from a smiling soonyoung. and he already knew how the night would end. 

that it would end up with soonyoung driving back again for two hours to reach pohang and he would never have another reason again to go to seoul aside from attending workshops. that there would be no good morning message tomorrow when he wakes up and the days after. that there would be no more spontaneous trips outside seoul. no more visiting different cities where the other would be, teaching kids how to bend their bodies properly and how to dance gracefully. no more soonyoung appearing randomly in front of his office or in his kitchen cooking his favorite meal. just no more soonyoung in his life after this night.

when soonyoung got no response from him after their talk, he stood up and left. jihoon wanted to run after him, grab his arm, hug him tight. he wanted to say “don’t.” wanted to beg if he could wait just a little more. but jihoon can’t do that to him anymore, can’t add more pain to soonyoung’s already breaking heart. so he remained on his couch, watched the taller man wear his shoes and walk out the door. not once looking back at him.

✳︎✳︎✳︎✳︎✳︎

"so when did you realize you were actually in love with him?" seungcheol asked. 

"when he walked out my door and never came back."

✳︎✳︎✳︎✳︎✳︎

jihoon was supposed to stay for a few months and take a break at los angeles, but he ended up staying permanently. it was a big decision he made three months into his break. he found the new city and the new life refreshing, like he actually had a restart in life. in this new city, he explored, questioned, and accepted his true self. he met people who shared the same stories and allowed him to come out peacefully. the new city embraced him warmly and it was enough to make him stay. 

wonwoo moved to los angeles as well, together with mingyu. it was hard working with jihoon through video calls and emails alone. fortunately, mingyu got a contract with an agency based in los angeles and so they decided right away to fly to the other side of the world. they also bought an apartment on the same building as jihoon’s with wonwoo reasoning that he missed his best friend and his cooking a lot. 

jihoon held a book signing event for the celebration of his first book after his hiatus. he was surprised and thankful that a lot of people still came to support him despite being away for five years.

he gleefully greeted everyone, spending a good few minutes talking with each one and signing their books. he remembered a few from years back and bowed at them thankfully for waiting for him and for traveling to los angeles just to see him. 

“thank you. enjoy the reading.” jihoon bowed and smiled at the fan. 

he turned to wonwoo on his side to ask for the time left but wonwoo was looking at something with a shocked looked on his face. jihoon immediately turned to where he was staring but was greeted by a man—blonde, a good few inches taller than him, and wearing a pink plaid shirt. 

jihoon wanted to punch the universe for bringing him back to the same sight he had fourteen years ago. the difference was just now, soonyoung was standing next to someone jihoon was quite familiar with.

“hi! it’s been a while, ji!” 

jihoon took a quick deep breath before smiling and greeting jun properly, “glad you’re here still, jun.” 

soonyoung looked surprised, looking between jihoon and jun. “you know him?” soonyoung said directed to jihoon.

“jun is quite a special reader. i don’t think i’ll forget him.” jihoon answered as he opens the book jun placed in front of him.

“babe i told you! i’m not delusional!” 

the pen jihoon was holding floats in the air for some seconds before he continued writing. jun was telling him how we waited patiently and knew he would come back eventually. jun told him how he finally met his own first love and how he was lucky to marry him. jihoon took a quick glance on both their hands and understood. 

jihoon congratulated them, thanked jun again for being a loving fan, and smiled at them genuinely. soonyoung didn’t say anything after and just waited patiently at the side for his lover. 

soonyoung smiled at him warmly before leaving the line and jihoon knew. it was the end of his chapter in soonyoung’s life. the closure he needed to finally be able to move forward and let go of his regrets, what ifs, and what could have beens.

when he came home that night, he opened a document that was sitting untouched for five years now. finally, jihoon can end this story. 

untitled

the end. 

—

been writing this for a long time now and i really want to write it beautifully. wanted to add a lot about jihoon discovering himself and dealing with his sexuality but i feel like i wont give it much justice and i wouldnt be able to write it ... good ?? hahaha i still have a lot to learn when writing and conveying messages especially with a topic this heavy.

would love to hear your thoughts or feedback on this one :)

[twitter]

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas

Second longfic for EtoKen. No Ghouls AU. Relatively modern.

I couldn’t take it anymore; it was either the Root A fic or this one, and after reading Tokyo (which you should read btw), I made my choice.

Cross-posted on AO3. Hope I finish this one.

Summary: By some miracle, Ken Kaneki— also known as the online artist Haise Sasaki— is hired to work on the next work and first graphic novel of Sen Takatsuki, his favorite author and a controversial figure in larger society. He’s honored, of course, and very excited, but between storyboarding the next page, strange government conspiracies, and the even stranger chemistry he has with Takatsuki, well… He hopes he isn’t in over his head.

Chapter 2 Master Post

Chapter 1: Interview, Not Date

It was supposed to just be another outing at Anteiku with Hide. Just coffee, some pastries, and a nice, relaxing afternoon sun in the spring. It was not supposed to be the day that Kaneki found out Hide had secured him a meeting to possibly work with Sen Takatsuki on her next work.

Sen Takatsuki, the famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) horror/tragedy/social justice writer that pried apart the government’s faults as easily as Kaneki pulled his calves when Touka made him run with her.

“Listen, Kaneki,” Hide said, chewing on the stirring straw like a toothpick, “if it makes you feel better, it’s an interview, not a date. With her editor.”

It didn’t. “Thanks, Hide…”

Hide arched his brow. He sighed and leaned forward, palms on the table to take up as much of Kaneki’s vision as possible. “Dude, you’ll be fine. Worst case, you already know Mr. Yoshimura’s down to take you back if it doesn’t work out; you’ve got a safety net, so go for it!”

And Kaneki was grateful for that. The safety net. He was just… The thought of blowing this (because he probably would), then having to go back to brewing coffee and being asked unwanted questions for the rest of his life… Not that he was complaining; there were people far worse off than he was— he shouldn’t be insensitive— but…

“I know,” he mumbled. “I do…”

There was a guilty emotion welling up within him. He shouldn’t think badly of Anteiku, even after— Well, he knew he wasn’t exactly high quality material, anyway, and the staff were nice. Kaya had been especially kind, as someone who had gone through a similar situation. Sometimes people were just incompatible, even if they had a lot in common.

And to think of Anteiku as the reason for… that … would be hypocritical. If he extended the guilt and bitterness to everything associated with it, then he’d be required to blow this interview. He’d have to cut Sen Takatsuki’s works out of his life, and at the thought of that, he just couldn’t do it.

Those books had taught him that his struggles weren’t unique to him. They told him he wasn’t the one at fault; rather, it was the faults of the world that made it so.

This world was wrong. And there was solace in that fact.

“Listen,” Hide repeated, getting Kaneki’s attention. “Mr. Shiono seems like a nice guy. We had a good chat over the phone, and when we met up for real, I brought a small sample of your art for him to look at.”

Kaneki braced for impact.

“And… he liked it!” Hide gave a thumbs up and a grin. “We even got your interview settled straight away!”

Kaneki let out the breath meant to be a cushion. Relief flooded him. He was making progress. But, at the same time—

“I still don’t know about this,” he forced himself to admit out loud. “I mean, I don’t even have credentials besides what I’ve posted! I don’t know the first thing about working in the comic industry! I don’t know anything!”

“And you’ll never know unless you start going for things!” Hide countered, unbearably correct about that. “So chin up, bud! Worst case scenario, I find you something new to work on, or life goes back to how it’s been. No biggie.”

‘How life has been’: Hide paying all the rent behind Kaneki’s back, basically making Kaneki a twenty-two-year-old freeloader wannabe comic artist who did little else but read books and doodle out his feelings. He posted some of those feelings online as the anonymous Haise Sasaki, but only the ones he thought would get him the least amount of flack.

And, for the most part, it worked. He got some commissions, he became brave enough to post some of his comics, and generally speaking, it wasn’t all bad. People seemed to like what he had to offer.

However, it wasn’t sustainable, hence the job at Anteiku (Touka was the other person always saving him; bless her and curse him) and the apartment with Hide, which were both already more than he deserved. And yet…

Art was just so useless compared to what they did. Hide, a freelance translator, spoke four languages (that Kaneki knew of) and got gigs all across the globe and could work from home. Meanwhile, Touka was applying to med school to become a doctor to save people. As if working at the Apes and Dobers nonprofit and Anteiku wasn’t enough!

Meanwhile, Kaneki made pictures that got flushed down the drain as soon as he finished them. As Haise, he would labor for hours— sketching, lining, coloring, rendering— only for people to glance at it for five seconds before moving on with their day. The price of his commissions didn’t meet minimum wage, either, so it was basically hobby money. He was such a—

“Hey, Kaneki.” Hide snapped his fingers in front of Kaneki’s face to get his attention. “Eyes up here, pal.”

It was enough to keep him from spiraling. “O-Oh, sorry.”

“Look, this Takatsuki’s your idol, right?”

An understatement. The spark of hope that he felt reading Dear Kafka for the first time, the spark that told him that he wasn’t alone in feeling the way he felt, was something he’d never forget. “Uh, more or less, yeah…”

“And you really, really like her work, right?”

He shifted in his seat. “I-I do, but—”

“Then that settles it, right?” Hide downed the rest of his coffee before continuing. “You should go!”

But Kaneki wasn’t nearly good enough to—

“You should go, Kaneki.” A fresh plate of Yoriko’s famous pastries placed itself in front of him. “It’s your passion, isn’t it?”

He glanced up, and swallowed. “T-Touka…”

He really appreciated the weight of her words despite their brevity, even if that weight sometimes struck him in the face (literally, too, in the case of their judo classes).

He bobbed his head after a moment. “Yeah, it is. I… I really want this job.”

“See? I’m always right.” Hide laughed.

Kaneki cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his pants. “Um, Touka, is Mr. Yoshimura here today?”

She thought for a moment. “Not… right now, no, but I can take a message.”

Kaneki shook his head. “N-No, that’s okay! I’ll tell him when I see him next.” He then stood up. “I… I’m gonna do it. I’ll go and see Mr. Shiono.”

“Huzzah!” Hide threw up his hands in celebration. “You’ll do great, man! Promise!”

————

The thing about Hide’s promises was that they were either kept to the letter, or they fell apart miserably.

Kaneki didn’t like his odds so far.

The night before the interview, he did not sleep. He stared at his phone in bed, sketched feverishly under lamplight, and paced about the room, too nervous to close his eyes. He was totally gonna botch this. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, he didn’t know when, he just knew it was going to happen somehow, and there was nothing he could do about it.

That said, he, somehow, stumbled through the little coffee shop door ten minutes early, clutching his bag containing his portfolio like his life depended on it. Because, in a way, it did; if he let go of it, he’d lose his grip on his consciousness too and collapse in a heap from exhaustion.

He glanced about the small shop, at the tables he could count on his fingers, and realized it was empty. That was good. Crossing the length of the shop, he gave an apologetic wave to the lone barista and took a seat by the window. Hopefully, it was tinted enough so that when he saw Mr. Shiono through it, it wouldn’t look like he was staring rudely. He couldn’t get points docked before the meeting even began.

Kaneki glanced at the barista again. Should he order something? That might be rude… Maybe when Mr. Shiono arrived, he could get them both something. And pay. That was the most important part. It was only fair; paying for a chance at working with the Sen Takatsuki. Oh, but he was kinda hungry. He shouldn’t.

Grrrr…

He really shouldn’t.

It was time for the meeting. He ended up not ordering anything, too nervous after hitting the five minute mark.

No sight of Mr. Shiono. Or anyone, for that matter. This place was really out of the way, wasn’t it? Then again, it was during work hours on a Tuesday morning.

Kaneki tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes. No dice. He rubbed his eyes this time. Nope. He slapped his cheeks. Still nothing. He slapped harder, and it made an embarrassing noise. The barista gave him a weird look, and he put hands down in an instant.

No more noises.

Ten minutes late. He hadn’t been stood up, had he? Then again, Haise wasn’t exactly a well-known artist, not by a long shot. No work displayed in a museum, no high-profile projects to his name, nothing. Absolutely zero.

He’d been stood up.

His eyes stung a bit.

It was fine.

His nose got a bit stuffy.

At least he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. But it reminded him of that. Not even a text or a call. Rize just… blocked his number and disappeared from his life. Like he was just a pitstop, or worse, a stepping stone. Good riddance, Touka had said at the time, and in hindsight, she was right (she usually was), but an explanation would’ve been nice. Closure, and all that.

He shuddered. He should go home; he’d wasted enough time. Oh, but he was tired. The shop was empty; it couldn’t hurt to get some shuteye. Twenty minutes; that was a power nap. Twenty minutes was all he… needed…

…

“Hello~”

Was that someone’s voice? Maybe it was the barista’s… He’d caused enough trouble just stalking their tables… He really was such a—

“Psst, hey!”

Kaneki’s eyelids slowly lifted at the additional prodding, and he saw a blurry someone in front of him, waving their hand in front of his face.

“Ken Kaneki, right?”

“Huh…? Oh, um…” He sat up and rubbed his eyes with a yawn. “Yeah…”

“Great!” The person took the seat across from him, then immediately shot back up. “Oh, have you ordered anything yet?”

Who… was this…? Kaneki’s vision started clearing up, and he made out features.

Fern colored hair, like grass in a tranquil meadow, dressed in a messy bun. Large, round glasses that magnified verdant eyes. An unbuttoned cyan blazer with a white shirt beneath, and a burgundy floral-patterned skirt. Pretty face… Familiar face.

Wait.

Familiar face.

Kaneki blinked more sleep out of his eyes, the memory of a photograph rising to the front of his consciousness.

No.

The familiar figure giggled. “You awake now?”

No, no, no.

The person’s eyes looked him up and down, then tapped their mouth. “You’ve, uh, got some drool there. Do you suffer from sleep apnea? Insomnia, maybe? I can never remember…”

Please no.

His stomach dropped out of his abdomen and onto the floor as he wiped his mouth to keep his jaw from doing the same.

In front of him was not Shunji Shiono, Sen Takatsuki’s longtime editor, but Sen Takatsuki herself. The Sen Takatsuki. Here, now less than a meter away. In front of him. Talking to him. Ken Kaneki, the nobody. The freeloader. Moocher supreme. King of being a—

“So… Have you ordered anything?” Sen Takatsuki asked, smiling. Oh, she was even prettier in person; that wasn’t good. “I’ll pay; it’s the least I can do for making you come here.”

He found that he could no longer form words. What was she doing here? Wait, rewind, actually: where was Mr. Shiono? Had something happened, forcing her to come here? Was it his fault? Was—

“Shiono’s back at the office, doing his thing,” she said, as though his thoughts were words on a page. “Sorry for surprising you; I know you were expecting him instead.”

By the grace of what could only be described as a higher being, Kaneki managed to nod. She was so close he could just reach out and touch her. He wouldn’t— that was weird— but that was how close she was. And it wasn’t just that; there were slight imperfections in her being that no camera could capture, such as the light sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks, the cracks in her surprisingly chapped lips, and the reflection of her fingerprints on her glasses.

Only an artist could intentionally capture those things, and Kaneki, despite his inadequacy, wanted to be that artist. He wanted to draw Sen Takatsuki.

He shouldn’t, though. That’d be weird. Maybe in private, though…

He must have been lost in his thoughts too long, because she left him for the counter. “Two coffees,” she said, fishing out her wallet. “One iced and…” She turned around and glanced up at him.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Don’t mess this up. Game face. “U-Uh, black coffee!” he called feebly.

Fortunately, she seemed to hear him. “And a black coffee. Thanks!”

There was a weird mix of shame and embarrassment boiling in his stomach. Sen Takatsuki had ordered coffee for him, but Sen Takatsuki had ordered coffee for him. It should be him up there, not the other way around. But if he said something now, it’d just turn awkward. Best to keep his mouth shut.

She slid back into the seat across from him. “I also wanna say sorry for making you wait; I slept in, thinking it was just another day! Silly old me…”

Kaneki opened his mouth to speak, but only a hoarse noise came out. He smiled and shook his head to buy time. He somehow said, “I-It’s fine…” without puking.

“It’s totally unprofessional, is what it is!” She combed her fingers through her hair, grasping the strands with her eyes screwed shut. She sighed, then looked him directly in the eyes. “Better late than never, though. Ready to get started?”

No, but… If he waited until he could say yes, he’d end up dead first. So he just nodded, hoping it was enough.

“Great!” She reached into her bag and took out a few papers— he recognized one of them as Hide’s resume made for him— scanning them. “So… Ken Kaneki. Graduated from Kamii with a BA in Art and minor in literature… No experience thus far with the industry—” Kaneki’s face heated up at that fact— “but has been drawing for several years… How long is several years?”

He forced out an answer. “U-Um… Since I was a child. I was, uh, seven…? No, eight! I was eight.”

“And how old are you now?”

“I’m, um, turning twenty-three at the end of the year.”

“I see, I see…” She smiled. “And you didn’t go to art school?”

“N-No…”

“Why?”

Kaneki couldn’t say it was because he couldn’t afford it; Hide and his family were generous enough to offer to fund the entire thing, and a scholarship wasn’t out of the question either. But reading some of the horror stories about some of the schools— Kaneki figured he was better off without them. And, on his good days, it proved to be true.

“It just wasn’t a good fit for me…” he mumbled, scratching his chin idly. “A-And I learned just fine without it.”

She hummed, eyeing him. “Interesting…”

Was that a good or a bad thing? He couldn’t tell.

“So, the job.” She cleared her throat and put his resume away. “I’m looking for a comic artist to tell the story for my next work. I’ve tried going about with my usual process, but the words aren’t sticking to the page, if you know what I mean.”

She looked at him now, pausing. Oh, that meant he should probably respond. Okay. “So…” he began, trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re saying that prose isn’t enough. You need artwork to supplement it, to the point it becomes a graphic novel…?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s about it,” she said, smiling. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

He returned the gesture, smiling hesitantly back. He seemed to be doing well. Either that, or she was just trying to make him feel better.

“Alright, next question: Kaneki, do you know about substitute prisons?”

Kaneki reeled at the sudden change in subject. What? Then again, she was Sen Takatsuki. He probably should’ve expected that she’d ask this.

“The facilities meant to supplement regular prison cells , right?” he replied, and judging by the way her smile widened, she was pleased. Great! He continued. “Was… that your inspiration for The Hanged Man’s MacGuffin? ”

That was her latest release, now almost three years ago, to great criticism, as was typical of her novels. This was due to how it antagonized Japan’s public prison system and sympathized with the fictional inmates of the story, despite their horrible crimes. Most of the profits generated by the novel had also gone to mental health facilities, specifically ones that were against mass incarceration.

She was still staring at him, waiting for him to continue and still smiling. Right, here goes nothing.

“I-I noticed how there was a lot of focus not on the crimes the prisoners committed, but rather the conditions of their cell and lifestyle as a result of that vague crime. It was like you were asking the reader: ‘To what extent should a person answer for their past in the present?’ And, and then—”

He stopped, realizing that he was staring at his hands as he talked. His gaze flicked up toward Takatsuki; she had her chin nestled between laced fingers. As he studied her a bit closer, he noticed that her brows were raised just a bit higher, suggesting amusement— no, it was boredom, because honestly, who would listen to him say anything? Him and his big mouth, why did he let himself go again?

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, a nervous laugh failing to calm his nerves. “I’m taking up all the air in the room!” As usual.

“Don’t be!” She grinned at him now. “You’ve thought about this a lot; that’s good, and I enjoy hearing you speak.”

She… She did? She wasn’t lying, was she? He swallowed, and at that moment, their drinks arrived.

“It’s refreshing to hear someone who knows what they’re talking about for once.” She chuckled, taking a sip with the provided straw. “For example, a lot of people read my work, but they don’t really read it.”

Kaneki blinked, as the feeling of hoards of ignorant online comments flooded his memory bank. People who misinterpreted his work, taking away a worse message than he intended. He didn’t mind the ones that took away something good but different, but there were some that were just… malignant. And it was those ones that he hated the most.

“I-I understand what you mean,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Sometimes it feels like people intentionally hate my artwork for no substantial reason other than the fact that it isn’t for them. And then they have the audacity to say it to my face in the most venomous way possible. It makes me— I just want to—”

“Scream?” she supplied, and he watched as her eyes shone.

“Yes,” he said, hoping his smile was enough to match hers. “Scream.”

Takatsuki jotted something down on one of the papers with a pen, and for some reason, it didn’t make him nervous. This was a lot easier than he thought it would be; he didn’t want to be too presumptuous, but he felt like a meeting with Mr. Shiono wouldn’t have gone half as well.

“This might be a bit of a redundant question now, but: how familiar are you with my work?”

His confidence built, he answered quicker this time. “I’ve been reading your work since Dear Kafka. I’ve gone through everything at least twice now: your short stories, your novels— everything.” He took a breath; this was probably his only chance. “I, um, actually had a question, if you don’t mind?”

Her eyes glimmered, and his drawing hand itched. “Ask away,” she said.

“In The Hanged Man’s MacGuffin, you wrote the warden, Kimio Ohta, as a cruel man who tortured the prisoners for no substantial purpose, but, um…” Come on, Kaneki; you can do this. “When I was reading his scenes, I did some cross-referencing, and… He’s Detective Tanizaki’s uncle, right? In Salt and Opium?”

And for the first time, he watched her blink in surprise. There was a long stretch of silence then, and he started to wonder if he’d accidentally offended her. He didn’t think he said anything outlandish— Ohta and Tanizaki’s timelines and family trees matched up perfectly to him— but maybe it was another case of gross misinterpretation.

“Yes,” she said finally, and his doubts were dispelled. “Yes, he is. You actually caught that?”

Kaneki nodded meekly.

“Wow…” There was a different kind of smile on her then. Something a little softer. More genuine. “That’s impressive, Kaneki. You’ve impressed me.” She took another sip of her drink. “You brought a portfolio for me to sample, I imagine. May I?”

He nodded again, and fumbled for the portfolio. For the second time, he was grateful he wasn’t handing it to Shiono, because he’d actually organized a portfolio of much more personal work this time. As Haise, he sanitized his public gallery for fear of being too vulnerable online. People would take pity on him or laugh at him, and he didn’t want either of those things.

But for the chance to work with Sen Takatsuki, and the chance to finally start making comics on a larger scale… Wounds had to bleed before they could heal. So he picked what he believed to be his best work, regardless of social expectations, and slipped them into the folder.

The portfolio, full of his hopes, dreams, and despair, crossed the table into her hands and sealed his fate.

Kaneki felt… confident. He was confident. Okay, maybe not that confident, but if Hide and Touka could believe in him, then maybe it was okay to believe in himself. At least for a little while.

Takatsuki, meanwhile, was ignorant to his storm of thoughts, her gaze settled on the work. He watched her with bated breath as she looked. Surprisingly, she hovered over each piece for a while, fully taking it in before deciding when to move on. Every now and then, she would hover over a work longer than others, and he crossed his fingers that that was a good thing.

She reached the last piece. He remembered what it was: a man underwater trying to swim to the surface, but he was being dragged back down by thousands of bodies wearing his face. The idea of her being the first person to see it made him nervous, and it didn’t help that she lingered on it the longest.

“This is incredible,” she said suddenly. “You’re incredibly skilled, Haise.”

He tried not to gasp. Or worse, sob on the spot. Skilled, he repeated internally. Not talented, but skilled. He’d never heard his work called that before. It was a subtle alteration that conveyed the same compliment, but it meant all the difference. It meant she acknowledged the hard work it took to get where he was, not anything pertaining to his biology or innate sense for art. He should’ve expected her to use the right word, given her profession, but hearing it out loud was completely different from—

Wait. Haise? She’d called him—

“Sorry.” She giggled, once again reading his thoughts like a book. “I couldn’t help myself.”

His tongue turned to lead, all the joy at being praised evacuating his system to be replaced with dread. “H-H-How, how—”

“The truth is, I’ve been following your work for a long time.” She closed the portfolio carefully. “That's why I wanted to meet with you myself; after Shiono showed me the sample your friend brought, I just had to come instead.”

He gaped. Sen Takatsuki knew his art. Sen Takatsuki read his comics. Sen Takatsuki followed him. Sen Takatsuki—

“To think, Haise Sasaki would be in front of me in the flesh!” She laughed, carefully handing him his portfolio with both hands. “I’m so flattered.”

Flattered? “Y-Yeah, imagine that…” Kaneki laughed nervously back.

“Now, if you’ll allow me to return the favor,” she smiled again, and he suddenly couldn’t get enough of it, “I enjoy the heart you put into your comics and artwork. Your stories, while simple, are effective for what they’re trying to say, and I think your paneling is gorgeous. The way you actually play with the page to communicate your characters’ mentality is something I’ve never seen before.”

Praise. From Sen Takatsuki. He didn’t know what to say. Was he dreaming? Should he pinch himself? No, probably not. He’d wait until he got home, assuming his legs hadn’t turned to jelly.

“There’s a park just down the block from here, where a lot of people like to gather at this time of year.” She snapped him out of his thoughts as she produced her contact card and scribbled something on the back. “This is the address. Meet me there next week on Friday at noon. Promise I’ll be on time!”

She all but shoved it into his hand, patting it reassuringly. Her hands were dry— eczema, maybe?— and not at all what he imagined. Huh. But she was touching him. Huh.

“Text me when you can, and we’ll iron out the hiring process when we’re done at the park. Sound good?”

Kaneki managed a nod, unable to form words.

“Great! Look forward to working with you!” She stood up, tapped him on the arm with her hand (he flinched slightly), and left the shop with her coffee.

He blinked and looked down at the card in his hand.

Wait, what?

He surveyed the area for Takatsuki, but the only sign that she had been here was the faint scent of hibiscus flowers.

Wait.

What?

He looked at the card again, and it was blurry and wet. Wait, wet?! No, no, no— He wiped his eyes and inserted the card safely and carefully in his wallet. And then it sunk in:

He… got the job?

[faofinn]

No. 31 "I thought that I was getting better."

Emptiness | Setbacks | "Take it easy."

Fao had had a good day. He’d gone out for coffee, actually feeling relatively human. His pain had been decently controlled, his meds working for once, and his head had been less of a dick than usual. He’d met Steve, and they’d chatted about work, about getting Fao back into it. It had been nice, to feel that spark again, knowing he was good, he was wanted, the possibility of working again was something to keep him going. Because he’d felt good, he’d done loads. After coffee with Steve he’d gone shopping, bought himself some new clothes, stuff that had caught his eye, something to wear when he was a bit more on his feet, even a new suit that he was determined he was going to wear to an interview. 

He’d been tired but okay when he got home, and after a nap had still felt decent. He’d helped Fred cook, even managed to laugh at his jokes and generally enjoy himself a bit, after everything he’d had to deal with. He’d gone to bed that night tired but content, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere. 

And then he woke up the next morning nauseous and in agony. It was like a huge ‘fuck you’ to just how good he’d been feeling the day before. He rolled half onto his side, burying his face in his pillows, and didn’t move. He didn’t want to move, he just wanted everything to stop. He’d been finally getting somewhere, finally feeling like his old self, and now there was just nothing. The spark he’d felt the day before had gone, leaving him feeling empty and hollow, and suddenly it was like everything he’d been working towards had been for nothing. He wanted a smoke, but even that wasn’t enough to get him out of bed, so he resigned himself to being miserable about that too, the tension headache irritating above all else. He went to take his meds, but the cup by his bed was empty, and he ended up with the bitter taste of his tablets on his tongue and no way to actually take them, which just made the nausea worse and offered no relief for the pain. 

The way he’d retched had got him out of bed quick enough, crutches forgotten as he rushed to the bathroom. On his knees in front of the toilet he lost what little he’d eaten, as well as the damn tablet. Rinsing his mouth out didn’t help, he could still taste the horrible bitter meds on his tongue, and he felt just as sick every time he swallowed. Getting to his feet had gone just as badly, and he’d nearly fallen over when he’d stood to the sink, having to grip it hard just to stay upright. 

He just about made it back to his room, gripping the wall to keep his balance, and forced himself to get dressed. He called a cab, told Sheila he was going out, and then headed to the cemetery where Alex was buried. She was the only one he wanted to talk to. He loved his family, but they fussed too much, and he didn’t want to upset them. The pain was awful, but he’d given up on the idea of taking anything for it. 

He paid the taxi, got out and limped through the neat rows of graves until he reached Alex’s. There were some flowers there, likely left by her brother, but Fao didn’t have anything to leave. He did, however, have a pack of smokes in his pocket, and he lit one to rest on her headstone before he lit one for himself, and awkwardly settled on the floor, taking a long drag.

“I really thought I was getting better, ‘Lex.” He said after what felt like an eternity. “I had such a good day yesterday, thought like I was really getting somewhere, going places. Like getting a job wasn’t a stupid idea, like I could be myself again. Now look at me. I’m in agony, can’t even take my stupid painkillers, can’t do anything right. Maybe it’s just a setback but it feels like more. It feels like every time I do anything good I’m doomed to fail, doomed to suffer. It’s not fucking fair. I know recovery isn’t linear, that some days are gonna be good and some are gonna be bad, but this feels like such a fucking kick in the teeth, to have had such a good day followed by such a shit one. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to keep going? It fucking sucks.”