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prettygirl-gabi · 4 months ago

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Title: Sideline Chemistry

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Sports Media!Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: As a sports media intern, having to interview Paige for a class project and games should be fun right, but she takes it as an opportunity to shamelessly flirt each time.

As far as internships went, I had a pretty good one. Covering UConn sports for SNY as a student journalist meant I got to attend games, interview players, and build a solid portfolio. But it also came with one huge downside—my current assignment.

Interview Paige Bueckers.

For most people, that wouldn’t be a problem. Paige was an easy-going interview subject, known for her charm and humor. But I wasn’t most people. I was also in her friend group, which meant I had to deal with that version of Paige—the one who lived to tease me, held eye contact for way too long, and always found a way to make me flustered.

I’d prepared a professional approach. Keep it short, ask good questions, and don’t let Paige’s antics get to me.

Too bad she had other plans.

By the time I arrived at the UConn practice gym, most of the team had already left. A few players were still getting shots up, but Paige was leaning against the scorer’s table, scrolling through her phone.

She looked up when she heard my footsteps, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite journalist,” she said, slipping her phone into her hoodie pocket.

I sighed, setting up my camera. “Don’t start, Paige.”

“What? I’m just stating facts.” She stepped closer, resting a hand on her hip. “I feel honored. You could’ve interviewed anyone, but you chose me.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to focus on adjusting my tripod. “I had to choose you. It’s an assignment.”

“Mm-hmm.” Paige rocked back on her heels, watching me work. “Admit it, though—you’re kinda excited.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, totally. This is the highlight of my week.”

She smirked. “See? Told you.”

I shook my head, refusing to let her get under my skin. “Can you just stand over there so I can frame the shot?”

Paige moved to the designated spot, but instead of standing normally, she put her hands in her hoodie pockets and tilted her head, eyes locked on me.

“You’re staring,” I muttered, adjusting the camera settings.

“You look cute when you’re focused.”

My fingers fumbled over the buttons, nearly knocking the camera off its mount. Paige’s quiet laugh filled the space between us.

“Paige,” I warned.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just being supportive.”

I took a deep breath, trying to reset my brain. Focus. I hit record and lifted my notepad.

“Alright, let’s start. Name, year, position.”

Paige grinned. “You already know all that.”

“It’s for the recording, genius.”

She huffed dramatically but answered. “Paige Bueckers, red shirt senior, guard.”

I nodded. “So, this season’s been a big one for you. Coming back after injury, new team members, leading the team—what’s been the most rewarding part?”

Paige leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on her knees. “Honestly? Just being back on the court with my teammates. The rehab process was tough, but it made me appreciate the game even more. And, you know…” She flashed me a smirk. “It’s nice having my favorite reporter covering it all.”

I kept my expression neutral. “I’m sure you say that to every reporter.”

“Nah. Just you.”

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smile. “Next question.”

Paige chuckled, clearly enjoying herself.

I went through a few more, mostly straightforward ones about team chemistry, goals for the season, and her personal growth as a player. And, to her credit, Paige answered them seriously—at least, until the end.

“Last question,” I said, scanning my notes. “What’s something people don’t know about you?”

Paige pretended to think. “Hmm. That I’m a great flirt.”

I blinked at her. “Paige.”

“What? It’s true.” She leaned back, giving me a slow once-over. “Want me to prove it?”

I pointed at the camera. “I will put this in the final cut.”

“Oh, please do,” she said, grinning. “Maybe it’ll finally get you to admit you like me.”

My breath caught in my throat. She wasn’t just playing around anymore—there was something different in the way she said it. Confident. Sure.

The air between us shifted.

I looked at her, really looked, and she met my gaze without hesitation. Her blue eyes held mine, steady and unyielding, a challenge wrapped in warmth.

I swallowed hard. “Paige—”

“Say the word,” she murmured, stepping closer. “And I’ll stop messing with you.”

The way she said it—low, teasing, but undeniably sincere—made my brain short-circuit.

A sharp whistle from the other end of the gym shattered the moment. I jolted back, turning off the camera.

“We’re done,” I said quickly.

Paige chuckled. “For now.”

I spent the next couple of days editing the interview, but no amount of technical work could erase the way Paige had looked at me. It didn’t help that our friend group noticed something was off when we met up for a post-practice dinner.

“You’re quiet,” Azzi noted, sipping her drink.

“Just tired,” I lied, stabbing at my fries.

Paige, sitting way too close beside me, leaned in. “Or you’re thinking about something. Or someone.”

I elbowed her. “Stop.”

Kk, sitting across from me, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Paige smirked. “She interviewed me. Got all flustered.”

I groaned. “I was not flustered.”

“Yeah?” Paige tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “So you didn’t almost drop your camera when I complimented you?”

Azzi grinned. “Oh, this is good.”

I shot Paige a glare. “You’re the worst.”

Paige just laughed, draping an arm over the back of my chair. “Nah. I’m your favorite.”

Kk snorted. “Yeah, this is definitely a thing.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Can we change the subject?”

“Fine,” Paige said, nudging my knee under the table. “For now.”

But as the night went on, she stayed close—casual touches, lingering looks, little comments only I could hear.

By the time I left, my heart was pounding.

A week later, my professor praised my interview, and my editor asked if I wanted to do a follow-up feature on Paige.

I hesitated.

Another interview meant more flirting. More of those looks. More of whatever was happening between us.

But before I could think too hard, Paige texted me.

Pb5🙄: So when’s our next interview? Gotta keep my favorite reporter happy.

I stared at my phone, exhaling.

Then, against my better judgment, I replied.

Me: Next home game. Try to behave this time.

Pb5🙄: No promises.

And somehow, I knew she meant it.

The next home game came so quickly, I wasn’t even mentally prepared.

So, when the first half of the game had been intense, UConn leading by only a few points against a tough opponent. Paige had been playing lights-out, and I knew she’d be the one pulled for the halftime interview.

I ran over my questions in my head, reminding myself to stay professional. But when Paige jogged over after the buzzer, sweat on her brow and a grin on her face, I knew I was in trouble.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, eyes glinting as she took her spot next to me.

I swallowed hard, forcing a neutral expression. Professional. Focus.

“Paige, great first half from you,” I started, keeping my voice steady. “What’s been working so well for you and the team so far?”

She wiped her forehead with her jersey before answering. “Honestly, just playing together, trusting each other. The energy is great out there.”

A solid, textbook answer. Good. Maybe she’d keep it normal.

I nodded, moving to my next question. “You’ve been on fire, leading the team with 15 points already. What’s your mindset going into the second half?”

Paige tilted her head slightly, her smile just a little too amused. “Stay aggressive. Keep making plays. And, you know—keep impressing my favorite reporter.”

My breath hitched.

I knew she was doing it just enough to be subtle—flirty, but professional enough to avoid getting in trouble. Still, my ears burned.

I cleared my throat. “Right. Well—uh—” I cursed myself for stumbling, but Paige’s smirk only grew.

She lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Daring me.

I quickly recovered. “What adjustments do you think the team needs to make in the second half?”

Paige took pity on me, answering normally. “Just tightening up on defense, getting stops, and taking smart shots. If we do that, we’ll close this game out strong.”

I nodded, feeling my pulse return to normal. “Thanks, Paige. Good luck in the second half.”

She leaned in slightly, voice lower but still audible on the mic. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

I barely held back a reaction as she jogged off, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

And then I heard the announcers laughing.

I turned my head slightly, realizing the game commentators had been watching the whole thing.

One of them chuckled, “I don’t know about you, but I think Paige might have a favorite reporter for real.”

The other commentator joined in. “She’s got the confidence on the court and off it. That was smooth.”

I wanted to die.

The interview wrapped, and the second half started, but my phone was already blowing up.

Fuzzy Fudd: No way you just let that happen on LIVE TV.

Hey Arnold: Paige Bueckers is NOT real.

Icey B: Not sweetheart on a broadcast—BE FR.

Kayla Wayla: girl. GIRL.

Me: you three shouldn’t even be on your phone rn, like listening to coach fudd about the two man pick n roll p and sar been doing all night.

I groaned, clicking send before stuffing my phone in my pocket. I am never living this down.

UConn won. Of course they did. Paige went on a scoring tear in the second half, finishing with 27 points, and the team dominated the fourth quarter.

By the time I finished post-game coverage, I was exhausted—and dreading seeing our friend group.

But Paige had other plans.

As I packed up my things, she walked over, still in her warmups, a towel draped over her shoulders. “Hey.”

I glanced up, wary. “Hey.”

She grinned. “So, since I was on my best behavior tonight—”

I shot her a look. “Best behavior?”

“Okay, decent behavior,” she corrected. “I think I deserve a reward.”

I sighed. “What do you want, Bueckers?”

Paige shifted closer, lowering her voice just enough that it sent a chill down my spine. “Go on a date with me.”

My brain short-circuited. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” she said smoothly, blue eyes locked onto mine. “A real date. No interviews, no sideline reports—just us.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

She smirked. “You thinking about saying no?”

I exhaled sharply, glaring at her. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” she shot back. “So? What do you say?”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “Fine. One date.”

Paige grinned like she’d just won the national championship.

“Oh, and don’t think you’re off the hook for movie night tomorrow,” she added, nudging my arm. “Kayla said we’re doing a marathon, and you’re not skipping.”

I groaned. “Paige—”

“See you there, sweetheart.” She winked before jogging off, leaving me stunned for the second time that night.

I should have known I wouldn’t make it through the night without getting clowned for the halftime interview.

Kayla’s apartment was packed when I walked in. UConn’s entire women’s basketball team, plus a few extras like me, Sam and Kariny had claimed every available couch, bean bag, and blanket-covered floor space. The lights were dimmed, popcorn bowls were already half-empty, and The Lion King was paused on the screen.

But the second Paige walked in after me, all hell broke loose.

“Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Ice called out, her smirk way too satisfied.

Caroline flexed dramatically from her seat on the floor. “UConn’s power couple has arrived!”

Azzi, the only one who usually kept it low-key, still shot me a knowing look. “I hope you’re ready for tonight.”

Paige just grinned, completely unbothered. I, however, was already regretting this.

We barely made it to an open spot on the floor before Ice turned to the TV. “Hold up, before we start, let’s go over tonight’s highlights.”

She grabbed her phone, tapped something, and suddenly, my own voice echoed through the dorm.

“Paige, great first half from you…”

I froze.

No. No, no, NO.

“ICE, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

“Oh no, let it play,” Paige interrupted, smirking.

The entire room erupted when we got to the part where Paige smoothly said, “Keep impressing my favorite reporter.”

Aubrey wheezed. Kayla facepalmed. Ice was on the floor.

KK pointed dramatically. “AIN’T NO WAY.”

I wanted to die.

“Okay, fun’s over,” I rushed, reaching for Ice’s phone, but Paige just casually leaned back, enjoying the chaos she created.

Azzi chuckled. “Nah, because the announcers even backed her up—‘I think Paige might have a favorite reporter for real.’”

Allie snorted. “THEY WERE ROOTING FOR HER.”

I groaned, sinking further into my spot on the floor. “This is actual harassment.”

Kayla nudged me. “It’s what you get for flirting on live TV and expecting us to ignore it.”

“I WASN’T FLIRTING.”

The entire room answered in unison: “YOU WERE FLIRTING.”

Paige, the devil herself, finally took pity on me. “Alright, alright, let’s focus on something important—like how I carried us to victory tonight.”

That successfully derailed the conversation, as the team started debating plays from the game.

But Paige?

She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “You were flirting, by the way.”

I turned my head sharply, ready to argue, only to be met with those damn blue eyes already on me.

Paige smirked. Held the eye contact.

I swallowed hard.

This girl was going to be the death of me.

Kayla clapped her hands. “Alright, we’re starting the movie! No more flirting in the corner.”

“We’re not—” I started, but KK cut me off.

“Shhh, let them have their little thing.”

I gave up. Completely.

Paige just threw an arm around my shoulders as the movie started, completely unbothered by the attention.

“Hope you like long movie nights,” she murmured.

I huffed, but I didn’t move away.

I was doomed. So, so doomed.

And, somehow, I didn’t mind one bit.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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deadpanjisung · 18 days ago

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✧ the collective muse ✧

⟢ pairing: graphic designer!lee know x journalist!afab!reader x graphic designer!han

⟢ MDNI!!!!! (please make sure you have your age in your bio)

⟢ wc: 11.5k

⟢ genre: smut, angst, a lil fluff, colleagues to friends to strangers to lovers (you'll see when you read it)

⟢ warnings: unconventional relationship dynamics, talks of depression/ antidepressants, jealousy, kind of cheating-ish, mentions of pubic hair, threesome, boys kissing <3, breast play, fingering, oral, unpr0tected sex, creampies (lmk if i missed any).

⟢epilogue

♡ likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated

Co-founding a digital magazine was not in your plans when you started studying a B.A. in Journalism. During your last semester, you were assigned to create a digital magazine for one of your core courses. The magazine was your only assignment for that particular course. The difficult part was that it would be a group project. For that, you were thankful to have met Jisung earlier.

Despite being younger than you, Jisung was also coursing his last semester at university, majoring in Graphic Design with a minor in Journalism, hence the common courses. You had met him on your second year of studying when he started taking some of your core courses with you. It wasn’t until you were forced to work with him on another group project that you got to know him.

To know Jisung was to love Jisung. You quickly became good friends. Knowing Jisung also meant inevitably meeting Minho, another Graphic Design major getting a minor in Journalism. When assigned this particular project, Jisung recruited both you and Minho to be a part of his group. You didn’t know Minho as well as you did Jisung since Minho usually went to class and left to his apartment almost immediately while Jisung walked you to your car and occasionally invited you to eat dinner or watch a movie.

“So…” Jisung started, as you and Minho walked with him towards your car. “Any ideas for the magazine?” You nodded, Minho just stared at whoever talked.

“I think we should focus on art.”

“Like paintings art?” Minho asked.

“Yeah, like, we can visit a few galleries and write about them. We could write a column about classic artists too.”

“I like it.” Jisung commented, grinning widely. “But, I think we should write about music too. Maybe a multi-media art magazine would be cool.”

“That could work. Do you have any ideas, Minho?”

“Ah, I kind of wanted to write about the cuisine.”

“Food is art too.” Jisung said. “So, a magazine about food, art and music? Think anyone would want to read that?” He chuckled. You mindlessly continued walking, in an attempt to spot your white Hyundai SUV.

“I’d probably read it.”

“Yeah, me too.” You added, finally identifying your car amongst the sea of similar vehicles. “So, meet up at my place tomorrow at noon to strategize?” Minho and Jisung both nodded.

What had started as a uni assignment, became acclaimed by professors and classmates alike. You, Minho and Jisung put in the extra mile for this magazine. Your bond strengthened amongst the frequent reunions, visits to museums, galleries, restaurants, concerts, and album listening parties. Your magazine, The Collective Muse, became a popular topic around the university. Your mentor was the first person to recommend the pursuit of making the magazine a job. Writing and designing felt like second nature to all of you. You were required to present three issues but you submitted eight of them.

“I can see that you’re passionate about it. It’s very current, very relevant. The students love it, too. You could publish a few of them, as a test run.” Your professor motivated you.

The test run went as well as had been expected by your classmates. Soon enough Minho and Jisung went from being your friends to being your colleagues.

Once you graduated, you rented an office space. Initially, The Collective Muse was a side-job. You wrote the occasional article for a newspaper and worked at a call-center so you could pay the bills. Minho and Jisung worked as independent graphic designers, making more use of your office space than you did. Nonetheless, every afternoon you met at your office to brainstorm and design the new issues for The Collective Muse.

The magazine became your sole work-flow within six months of graduating. You and Jisung had the initiative to translate the issues to other languages, and The Collective Muse became an international success in record time.

✎ᝰ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ♬⋆.˚ Two years later ⋆.˚♬ ‧₊˚ 𓎩⋅‧₊˚ ⋅✎ᝰ

The magazine was still going strong. The diversity of the topics mixed with your individual sets of skills were the essence that kept the magazine relevant amongst pop culture; especially for teenagers and young adults.

“Hey.” Minho came into your office.

“Hi. I thought you’d be home by now. What’s up?” You asked, concerned at his worried expression.

“I need to talk to you… and Jisung…” He started, “Can you come to my office when you’re done?”

“I’ll go now.” You said. “Are you okay, Minho?” He looked away from you. You met Jisung as he entered Minho’s office just before you.

“So… I don’t know where to start.” Minho sighed. You and Jisung looked at each other and you could feel your hearts simultaneously sink. “I was offered a job… a full-time position… with another magazine a few months ago…They called me again today��.” Minho gulped as he looked from you to Jisung for the first time since he started talking. “I’m taking the job. I’m sorry.”

“Hold on. Are they offering you more money or something?” You asked coldly.

“I don’t care about the money, Y/N. I think I outgrew this company. That’s all. I want to write for a magazine that focuses on food and dining.” He answered. “Don’t worry. I have all you need until summer. You can find someone to replace me by then.”

“But, Min. It’s not the same without you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You’ll do well. I know you will. Excuse me.”

Minho left you and Jisung confused that night and he never returned to the office. Maybe if you and Jisung hadn’t been so disoriented with the news, you would’ve noticed that something else was going on with Minho. After he left, he stopped answering your calls, and your texts, and your letters. You went to his apartment a few times, only to be told that he moved an hour away, back to his parent’s house.

Losing an essential part of your team was the only the first incident that led to The Collective Muse’s downfall. When summer was over, and Seo Changbin took over the cuisine section of the magazine, your readers weren’t too keen on it. Changbin was a great storyteller but they, understandably, missed the prose that Minho provided them. The Collective Muse’s subscribers reduced significantly after Minho left. You and Jisung, as the heads of the company, had to make the difficult choice to close the office and continue publishing virtually.

Thus, Jisung became your housemate in order to save money on rent. Changbin worked from his house. And you inevitably regressed to having a second job in order to fund your lives. You considered putting an end to The Collective Muse once and for all. Yet, it felt like the only thing in your life that was worth fighting for. Your nine to five job only brought money to the table but no real sense of motivation to create, to express and to be yourself. Jisung, on the other hand, joined a graphic design company that only allowed him to make plain menus and banners for local coffee shops. Changbin worked as a car salesman during the day. Needless to say, you all needed The Collective Muse in order to keep a part of yourselves alive. So you, and Jisung and Changbin worked long nights in order to fund the magazine and its ever declining ratings.

✎ᝰ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ♬⋆.˚ A year later ⋆.˚♬ ‧₊˚ 𓎩⋅‧₊˚ ⋅✎ᝰ

“Okay. We’ll just go over to him and make him take back his boxes and his desk.” You reassured Jisung.

“We’ll just go over to him and make him take back his boxes and his desk.”Jisung repeated. You had been hoarding Minho’s belongings since he left and you closed the office. With both of you living together, the space that Minho’s things occupied was desperately needed.

“If he doesn’t want them, we’ll give the desk to your brother and, I don’t know, burn his other things or something.” You affirmed. Minho and Jisung’s families lived relatively close to each other. When Jisung’s nephew was born, you decided that the road trip was necessary both to see the baby and to let go of the things Minho left to haunt you for a year.

“This is it.” Jisung pointed to a house and you parked in front of it. You sighed. It had been a whole year since you had seen Minho. The only indicator that he was alive, were the articles that he wrote for his new job and the occasional social media post promoting them. Jisung looked even more nervous than you did. He was sweating profusely.

“Hey, Ji.” You put your hand on his cheek. “We’ve got this. It’s just Minho. We can handle Minho.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

Your relationship with Jisung was… complicated. You weren’t just colleagues or friends but you weren’t quite anything else either. You were aware that Minho had feelings for Jisung; he didn’t have to tell you. You also knew that Jisung had feelings for you. You and Jisung hadn’t crossed the ambiguous and imaginary friendship line because you respected Minho too much. You wanted Minho to feel comfortable with you despite the feelings that were involved. You thought it would work out. You and Jisung grieved together; you and Jisung found comfort in each other, too. Living together facilitated the process, and it made being just friends quite more complicated.

You found yourself next to Jisung, in front of Minho’s door. Jisung rang the doorbell, you didn’t fail to notice how his hands had a slight tremble as he did. The door opened to reveal a sleepy-looking Minho. His hair was disheveled, he had dark circles under his eyes, he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. And, despite that, he still looked as mesmerizing as ever. His eyes widened upon seeing you, shifting from you to Jisung.

“Hey.” You greeted as casually as possible. Seeing Minho again, to you, felt like seeing an ex-boyfriend. You were so angry at him, yet you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and ask him to get back together.

“Hey, Min. We’re sorry to pop up randomly. You weren’t answering our calls. So we couldn’t really let you know that we were coming by.” Jisung chuckled nervously.

“Uh. Okay. Come in.” Minho replied as he made his way inside. “Close the door or the babies will run away, okay?” You nodded as you stepped inside, closing the door after yourself.

“So, um, it’s good to see you. We’ll be quick. Your desk and some boxes are in the van and we were just wondering if you still wanted them?” You asked, trying to concentrate on Minho rather than on searching for one of the cats.

“Oh, you could’ve just kept it in the office or something. I have a desk here already…” Minho answered. “Want some water?” You shook your head. Jisung nodded.

“That’s the thing though. When you left, we kinda… closed down the office. So your desk’s just been living in the workspace at our apartment…” Jisung added.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that. Are you still publishing or…?” Minho asked, his expression was genuine, still you couldn’t help but felt pissed off at him. He didn’t even check if you were still running. What a friend…

“Yeah. It’s been hard to, though. People really miss your columns…” You replied.

“I bet that’s not it…”

“It’s part of it…” Jisung countered.

“You two are finally living together?” Minho was quick to change the subject.

“We couldn’t really afford rent ourselves either. We compromised by me moving to her apartment.” Jisung cleared up.

“Yeah, it’s only until we have some financial stability.” You said.

“Oh. That must be nice.”

“It is!” Jisung confirmed. “It’s been pretty healing, to live with your best friend, collaborating with other people too. It hasn’t been all bad….”

“Ji…” You interrupted. “We kind of have to get going.” You directed your attention to Minho, who was playing with the strings of his sweats. “Are you sure you don’t need your desk?” Minho shook his head.

“No. If you know anyone that needs it, feel free to gift it forward.” Minho answered, you and Jisung nodded as you stood up. “Jisung-ah, Y/N-ah… Seeing you has been nice… I really meant to call you back. I’ll give you the home phone number, okay?” Jisung nodded, with no intentions of actually using it for anything. Minho handed him a piece of paper with the number written on it.

“Nice to see you too, Min. Good luck.” Jisung said whilst putting on his shoes.

“I’m sorry about what happened…” Minho apologized with a sigh.

“That’s water under the bridge.”

“See you. Take care. Get some rest, okay?” You said.

“Thanks… Good luck. Stay healthy.” Minho bowed as you and Jisung exited his house. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, staring at you and Jisung. His heart dropped when you kept walking without even glancing back at him.

Jisung sighed as he entered the van. His eyes met yours and he leaned into you and pressed his lips on yours. The kiss took you by surprise. It, of course, wasn’t the first time that he kissed you. But, kisses with Jisung were intimate; you never kissed in public. His lips were familiar, they were chapped despite him doing his best efforts to moisturize them.

“Sorry.” He chuckled nervously as he pulled away from you. “Seeing Minho was too much like seeing an ex. I kinda needed the reassurance that I still have you.” You chuckled at him.

“Loser.” You grinned. “I get it, though. The vibe was so… weird. It really felt like seeing an ex after a hard breakup.” Jisung grabbed a hold of your hand. You started the van again and drove past Minho’s house, failing to notice that Minho was still standing outside, looking over at you.

“It was nerve-wrecking for me.” Jisung added. “Minho looks tired. More tired than he looked when he was writing for The Muse. I hope he’s not working himself to the bone.” You nodded.

“Then again, I bet we look just as exhausted to him as he does to us now.” You noted.

You looked at Jisung next to you. He was beautiful, of course he was, big round eyes to match his round cheeks, his gummy smile, you never missed the way he cocked his eyebrows or the way they furrowed when he was anxious or frustrated. You had his face memorized, etched in your soul. It was so easy to fall in love with him. He had dark circles under his eyes too, his bright blue hair was a faded baby blue now and he had a stubble from not shaving. Jisung examined you too; you had dark circles under your eyes, your natural hair color had begun to show in your roots, you didn’t wear too much makeup anymore (he loved your bare face just as much), you had removed your piercings… you were everything to him, but you did look tired.

“We’ve been overworking ourselves, huh?” He pointed out. “It’s easy to recognize on another person, not so much on yourself.” You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road; the sun had already set.

Mrs. Han welcomed you with open arms every time you went to visit them. She invited you inside but you denied, guilt-ridden. You didn’t want his family to get the impression that you were a couple, you didn’t want to get their hopes up.

“Oh, don’t drive home this late, Y/N. Please stay here.” Mrs. Han said as she packed you a bowl of rice.

“Don’t worry. If I leave now, I’ll be home soon. Thank you so much for the offer, though.” You replied, taking the bento she served you. Jisung accompanied you outside.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to stay?” He asked. You shook your head.

“I’m good. I was sick last week, remember? I need to have work done by tomorrow afternoon.” You answered, it was an excuse and he knew it, yet he didn’t fight you on it.

“Give me a call when you get home, okay?” Jisung added, giving you a peck on your lips. “I love you. Drive safely.”

“I love you too, Ji. Have fun tomorrow.” You blushed and gave him another kiss.

“Thanks. Bye, Y/N!” He waved you off.

The drive was only about an hour and a half long. You had left Minho’s desk at Jisung’s parents’ house and took the forgotten boxes with you back. About ten minutes into the drive, your phone rang. Minho. A name you hadn’t seen in your phone in a long while. You debated answering him, but you did.

“Minho? What’s up?”

“Hey, Y/N. Sorry to bother you. I called Jisung but he didn’t answer… I wanted to ask about the boxes you said I left…”

“Oh, sorry about that. I forgot to give them to you. I’m on my way home. Can I drop them off at yours?” You asked.

“Yeah. That’ll be perfect, actually.”

“I’ll be there in, like, five minutes.”

“Okay. Bye.”

You hung up.

You cursed at your forgetfulness. Seeing Minho once was tough, seeing him twice and being alone would be harder. You tried not to bad mouth him in front of Jisung, but you couldn’t help to resent him. Minho took a part of your dream when he left. A part that you would never get back. You felt angry and betrayed and disappointed. When everything spiraled, you cried and cursed at Minho when you were alone. You knew it wasn’t fair to blame him. Still, it’s difficult to go from relative success to barely eating to be able to sustain yourself and your passion.

When you pulled up at Minho’s, he was already outside. He smoked a cigarette and put it out as soon as he saw your car. You saw his figure walking up to you; a familiar sight, just like when you used to pick him and Jisung up to work on your magazine a few summers ago. His hair was cut shorter now, he put on a bit of weight too, which didn’t surprise you. But, when did he start smoking?

“Hey. Sorry again.” Minho apologized. “It’s really humid outside tonight. You’re alone?” You nodded. “Do you want to come in?”

“Ah, I shouldn’t stay long. It’s late already.” You answered.

“That’s the thing. I kind of ordered a lot of food and my parents are traveling so…” Minho said and looked at you expectantly, “I was wondering if you wanted some.” You stared at him blankly, this wasn’t like Minho. Minho was direct and blunt, he didn’t make mistakes. He was always so detail-oriented. “Please.” A year had passed and you still couldn’t resist his charm.

“Fine.” You answered as you turned the car off. You walked alongside Minho, the faint smell of cigarettes plaguing your nostrils. “Since when do you smoke? Weren’t you all about health?”

“Ah, you caught that? I don’t do it often, only when I’m really anxious.” He replied, looking at you. “I know the smell makes you nauseous, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It’s okay.”

“You still like bibimbap, right?” He asked you whilst taking off his shoes.

“Yeah, it’s still my favorite.” You answered as you took off yours. “Are the babies here?” He nodded.

“It’s been a while since you haven’t seen them. Dori has put on a lot of weight. He’s healthy though.”

“Ah! You know I love when kitties have a big primordial pouch!” You noted when you saw Dori at the top of the stairs. “He looks so adorable.” Minho chuckled at your reaction. You walked up the stairs and sat next to Dori. He took his time sniffing you but still cuddled into you. Unbeknownst to you, Minho was fondly staring at the interaction from behind the kitchen threshold.

“Sorry to break this up but bibimbap isn’t quite as good when it’s cold.” Minho said, and walked back to the kitchen. You gave Dori a last pet and walked to the kitchen.

The colorful bibimbap that was served illuminated the original dullness of the kitchen. Minho’s kitchen was beige but still Minho-esque, adorned with cat towels and little kitten salt and pepper shakers. You sat down next to Minho and started eating. It felt weird to be back at Minho’s house after your college days. It felt even stranger to eat bibimbap with your ex-colleague, who had been ghosting you for a year, at 9pm in his childhood home. Soonie stepped into the room, followed by Doongie and jumped up on the table. Minho stood up and took out a cat food can from the fridge and served their plates next to the table.

“Sorry about that. They get feisty when they’re hungry. Eomma has them on a tight feeding schedule but I’m a bit more lenient.” He commented. “Do you want a beer?” You shook your head.

“As tempting as it sound, I’m driving so water is fine, thanks.” You replied. Minho placed the glass of water next to you.

“I guess we’ll have to see each other again over some beers, then.”

“Ah, I’m not much of a drinker these days.” You clarified. “I’m on mood stabilizers and alcohol kind of reverses their effects.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. A lot of things have changed since you left.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve been beating myself up for that all this time. I didn’t answer you because I was embarrassed…”

“Min. It’s fine. What’s done is done. We’re working with what we have and that’s enough for now.” You cut him off. His eyes were glossy. You had never seen Minho cry before. “It’s okay, Min, really. I understand your decision. At first, I was frustrated but I understand why you did it and that it doesn’t mean that you hate us or that we did anything to make you feel weird or out of place….right?”

Minho looked at you and bit the inside of his cheek. Something Minho tended to do when he was embarrassed or about to lie.

“Oh, shit. What did we do?” You asked.

“Well, um…It wasn’t necessarily something that you did… but, my feelings getting in the way… a-and you and Jisung…” He replied, staring at the carpet under the table, avoiding your eyes at all cost.

“Min… I’m sorry…”

“No. It’s not your fault.” He affirmed. “I couldn’t separate my personal feelings for Jisung from my professional life. And then I saw… forget it…”

“You saw what?” You questioned and he looked up at you and sighed.

“At our New Year’s Eve Party last year… Jisung walked you out, and then I decided that I wanted to see you out too… and I saw you… kissing…”

“Fuck. Min, I’m so so so sorry about that.” You pleaded. “I didn’t mean to get in the middle of you two. I held back, that was the first time and last time that we kissed until we moved in together….”

“Y/N, it’s not your fault. Jisung obviously has feelings for you and I can see that you like him too. You two are my best friends. A part of me thinks it’s wonderful that you love each other in that way. But, it wasn’t so easy to see it.”

“It’s complicated.” You said. “I didn’t want anything to happen with Jisung because I didn’t want to hurt you, but also because it makes working together harder. I wanted to avoid a situation where someone left The Muse…”

“Y/N, I-I’m so sorry about that. Could you please not tell Jisung?” You nodded.

“We both have things to be sorry for, I guess. I know that Jisung’s sorry too.” You added. “For what it's worth, we’re not together together.” He took a sip of his beer and you finished the rest of your meal in silence. A little awkwardly at first, but it became a comfortable silence.

“Thanks for the meal.” You broke the silence. “I should really get going. I hate driving when it’s super dark out.”

“You can stay here, if you want.” Minho offered as he took your plate. He walked over to the sink and washed the dishes.

“I have some things to do at home tonight.” You replied after you answered a text from Jisung. “Thanks for offering, though.” You grabbed your purse and stood behind Minho as he dried his hands.

“Are you sure?” He asked, scanning your face for any indicator. You nodded. Minho walked with you to his front door. You laced up your shoes while Minho curiously stared at you. “I missed you.” That took you by surprise, making you halt your movements.

“Me too.” You smiled at him.

He stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. Minho’s embrace was unusual, he hadn’t hugged you much in the past. He nuzzled his head into your shoulder and sniffled, you then understood what the hug really meant. You wrapped your arms around him. You stayed silent, your eyes betraying you as they watered against Minho’s shoulder. In that moment, you forgot all of the anger and frustration you had felt towards him. Once he pulled away, you cupped his cheek. His eyes were teary, his lashes were wet, his nose was a pink color from his sniffling.

“I love you, Min. I hope you know that what happened during the last year doesn’t change that…” You said. He smiled at you.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You pondered about what had just happened during the rest of your drive. Seeing Minho almost a year after he left was gut-wrenching and knowing that you had a part on him leaving was even worse. You couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you and Jisung hadn’t kissed or if Minho hadn’t seen you two. Would you still be working together? Or were you always meant to part ways?

You texted Jisung to let him know that you arrived to your apartment. The night was silent where you lived. When Jisung was there with you, the apartment felt small yet when you’re alone it appeared so empty. You cried yourself to sleep that night and you dreamt of a world where you hadn’t made stupid mistakes.

You didn’t regret kissing Jisung per say, but you did regret hurting Minho, especially when you had been so careful to not act upon your lingering feelings for Jisung or for Minho. Before you knew that Minho had feelings for Jisung or that Jisung had feelings for you, you were drawn to Minho. Deep down you knew that that was probably the main reason why you resented him for leaving. Though, you were also aware that Minho was the reason that you couldn’t make your relationship with Jisung official. A part of you felt that you were betraying him for being with Jisung already.

A call from Jisung woke you up the next day.

“Good morning.” His voice rang.

“Hi, Ji. What’s up?” You asked, followed by a yawn.

“Nothing, I think I’m heading home soon. You got there late, are you okay?”

“Weren’t you staying for a while?” You asked. “I’m fine, I just dropped Minho’s things off at his.”

“I have a lot of stuff to do for work. I saw my nephew earlier anyways. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“See you. Bye.”

After hanging up, you were surprised to see a text message notification from Minho that read: ‘Thank you for last night again. I’m going to be in the city this week. Do you want to have dinner with me?’ . You stared at the message, pondering what to respond. Did he ask Jisung the same thing? Would it be just us two? You replied: ‘sure, just let me know when’.

You ate greek yogurt with honey and strawberries, a minimal effort breakfast that kept you full enough until you finished writing the column that you were writing for the magazine. You had visited a charming intimate art exhibit in Seoul from a local artist last weekend. You offered to write a piece on it and the artist was very receptive, asking for your number and for you to promise to text him when the new issue was available. It took you a while to get into your writing zone, scanning the pictures of the exhibit once again for some inspiration. You barely even noticed when Jisung arrived, only his bad habit of slamming the door shut giving it away.

“Hey.” He popped his head in from your room’s doorway. “My mom made us lunch before I left. Take a break.” You nodded in defeat as you had been stuck on the closing paragraph for a while. You followed Jisung to the kitchen, sitting on your somewhat designated seat as Jisung served the food.

“You look peppy, sleep well?” You asked. He handed you your plate.

“Kind of. It’s a bit refreshing being home but I kinda missed being here.” He chuckled. “So, you went back to Minho’s?” You nodded.

“Yeah. He asked if I could bring his boxes back.” You answered. “He fed me bibimbap too.” Jisung’s eyes widened at that.

“For real?” He asked with a mouthful of rice.

“Yeah. Weird, right?” You answered. “It was nice, though. I felt his humanity again.”

“Did he tell you why he left?”

“Kind of…” You replied, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Aish. I know that look. What did we do?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s a conversation that you and Minho should have alone. I don’t want to be Hermes for you two.” You replied and kept eating.

“Are you really doing this to me?” He pleaded.

“I am, sorry.” He rolled his eyes and resumed eating. “Are you pissed at me?”

“No. You’re right. It is a conversation that should happen between me and Minho.” He answered calmly. He stood up and placed his place and glass cup in the sink. “I have to do a few things for tomorrow and I might as well start now. We can go out for dinner.” You looked at him. “Or we could stay in and order food, watch a movie or something?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You replied. He smiled widely.

After you finished eating, you resumed attempting to redact the conclusion to your article. You checked your phone, Minho had answered and you had a new text message from the artist of the exhibit. ‘Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to reading your article. Would you like to talk it over dinner this week?’ You contemplated not answering him either for no fault of his own. Ultimately, you did reply that you’d love to have dinner with him. A half-lie. He was a sweet and interesting guy so in any other life you would love to have dinner with him; but, in this life, you had become a kind of hermit. You worked from home and rarely left the apartment if you didn’t absolutely have to. Jisung worked from home on occasions too so you weren’t exactly always alone. You grew to love the quiet coziness of your home. For a while, it was the only non-turbulent aspect of your life.

Truth be told, you had your own desk and workspace but you still preferred to work on your bed. After an hour, Jisung entered your room and sat next to you with his computer on his lap. This was the other reason why you didn’t usually work in your office. Jisung was clingy and distracting and so were you. You realized you couldn’t work next to each other. Occasionally Jisung would sit on the bed next to you, but only if he was nearly done with his project.

“Soooo, Whatcha writing?” He asked, leaning on your shoulder to take a peek at your computer.

“My piece for the art exhibit I attended last week, remember?” You said, he still leaned into you. “I just finished writing it. Do you want to read it over?” Jisung nodded and took your computer from your hands, pushing his own to the side of the bed. You got up and walked away, it still made you uncomfortable when people read your work. You washed the dishes while Jisung read your article, then you swept the floor.

“Y/N!” Jisung exclaimed from the other room. “You’re here? Weird. There were a few grammatical errors but I edited them. It was great, as always. I wish I could’ve gone with you now…” You chuckled.

“The artist asked to read my article before the magazine came out. Do you think it’s ready to send?” You asked.

“Send away.” He replied as he grabbed a snack from the refrigerator. “So, can we watch One Piece now that you’re done?”

“Sure. Can we order pizza or something unhealthy?”

“Of course!”

Artist: Hwang Hyunjin Exhibit: Timeless “His pieces spoke to me in a tantalizing melody. Piece by piece and then, all at once. An exhibit worth a lifetime. A captivating tune of brushstrokes and oils. Mr. Hwang expresses himself like music, like a dance, he conveys emotion like a pirouette. The movement in his paintings is compelling. It calls to you, and you listen. A visual definition of timelessness.”

“Minho? What are you doing here?” You asked as you opened the door, expecting to see Hyunjin instead.

“Oh. I told you that I was coming around this week.” He replied. “You look nice, are you ready for dinner?”

“Ah, Min. I told you to let me know. I have plans today.” You said, gesturing for Minho to come in. He slipped off his shoes and entered your apartment.

“You have plans? My bad. Is Jisung here, then?” He asked. You rolled your eyes but nodded. You knew that during the last few days Minho and Jisung had been communicating but the casualness of Minho arriving at your door made you feel weird. Nostalgic even.

“Ji!” You called out to him and he immediately entered the living room with a scowl on his face.

“Do you have to go to dinner with him?” Jisung asked, ignoring Minho’s presence. “Oh, hey.”

“Is it a date?” Minho inquired looking from you to Jisung.

“It’s not a date. I’m going to dinner with an artist whose exhibit I reviewed.” You answered.

“You don’t go to dinner with other artists, though.” Jisung pointed out. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. You heard someone clearing his throat behind you and looked back to see the familiar blonde buzzcut sported by Hyunjin. He was handsome, there was no denying it. He stood so elegantly, even if he wasn’t dressed in his finest clothes.

“Oh! Hi, Hyunjin!” You greeted as you walked over to him. He smiled at you. “This is my roommate, Jisung and our co-, uh, friend, Minho.” You signaled to each of them as you introduced them.

“Nice to meet you.” Minho said and shook Hyunjin’s hand. Jisung hesitantly followed.

“You too.” Hyunjin added. “Shall we go? The reservation’s in 20.” You nodded.

“Have fun, boys!” You said whilst grabbing your coat and purse. “I’ll see you two later.” You stepped out of the apartment, followed by Hyunjin as he closed the door after himself.

Jisung and Minho stepped closer to the door and faintly heard Hyunjin say something along the lines of “Y/N, you look great, by the way”. Jisung scoffed when he heard that. He plopped down on the couch, Minho sat down beside him. Jisung turned on his PS5 and continued his latest loaded game of Spider-Man: Miles Morales.

“You want to have a go?” He asked in realization of his rude welcoming. Minho nodded and Jisung handed him his controller. Jisung sighed. “I just don’t get why she’s going to dinner with him. Like, is he really that interesting? You know, handsome people are usually very superficial, right? Excluding you, of course.” Minho blushed at his comment, but Jisung didn’t take notice, being too focused on watching Minho play.

“Do you think he’s interested in her?”

“Um…” Minho looked at Jisung, who was looking at Minho expectantly. It was a bit strange to him that you were having dinner with one of the artists too. “She’s Y/N, so probably. But, that doesn’t mean that she’s interested in him, right?”

“Yeah. He’s not really her type, I think. But…” Jisung whined. “What if he is? I read the way she talked about him in her article.”

“Dude, calm down.”

“I can’t!” Jisung complained. “What if it is a date?”

“I don’t think she would’ve agreed to a date with him when she knows that you’re here. Trust her a little.”

“I trust Y/N with my heart.” Jisung asserted. “It’s the artist that I don’t trust, Hyunjin or whatever his stupid name is…” They stared at the gameplay whilst Jisung gave Minho some tips.

“Can I read the article?” Minho suddenly asked.

“Duh. Let me pull it up.” Jisung searched for the article on his phone and handed it to Minho.

Jisung scanned Minho’s expression as he read the article. Minho furrowed his brows, he didn’t understand if you were being biased throughout the article because you really liked the pieces or because Jisung was right and you and Hyunjin were flirting. He felt strange while reading your praises towards Hyunjin and his art, he missed when you complimented him. Those feelings confused him even more, why did he feel this particular way? It’s just you. His friend. His everlasting crush’s situationship, right?

“So, what did you think? Absurd, right? Not the writing itself, but the way she expressed her admiration for him isn’t normal.” Jisung complained, Minho gave him his phone back.

“She usually doesn’t give out this flattery to just anyone.” Minho pointed out. “So, in that sense, it is strange. But, I don’t think she’d write such a piece if she were, uh, romantically interested in him.” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Hyung!” He whined. “She said I was her roommate. Just her roommate.”

“And what are you to her, then…?”

“Uh… Well… we have been, you know, intimate… a few times.” He answered while looking down.

“I know, I saw you kissing.” Minho snickered. “But you aren’t her partner, right?”

“Shit, I’m not… She’s totally going to fall in love him, Minho. I’m going to die.”

“Jisung, chill, please. She won’t. She respects you enough to, at least, talk to you first. I know that.” Minho remarked, his heart sinking as he said that, confused at his own feelings. “Plus, you are not going to die if Y/N gets a boyfriend that’s not you.”

“Agh! I hate this.” Jisung protested. “Do you want to play It Takes Two?” Minho nodded. Jisung handed him a purple controller that Minho knew was yours.

✎ᝰ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ♬⋆.˚✎ᝰ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ♬⋆.˚✎ᝰ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ♬⋆.˚

Meanwhile, you were having a great dinner at a nice, Italian restaurant with Hyunjin. Hyunjin was a perfect mix of intriguing, funny and charming. He listened to your stories intently and always had a thoughtful response.

“I felt really honored when I read the article, by the way.” Hyunjin remarked. “You can ask my assistant, I blushed non-stop for, like, an hour.”

“Ah, it was nothing that you didn’t deserve. Your exhibit meant a lot to me.” You replied, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t usually go out… I’m really busy with work. But, I felt that we had a connection when we met. I think you understand me.”

“I really enjoyed our conversation that day too.” You agreed. “I’d love to review other collections of yours if you have other exhibits.” Hyunjin blushed at that and smiled in a way that his eyes crinkled.

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.” He started, “It’s still relatively early but I’m planning on opening a gallery soon… and I’d love to start a magazine like yours but just about art. I don’t have a huge budget yet but I’d love to have you on my team…” You stayed silent, taking in what he had just expressed to you.

“Sorry if it was too much… I just… ah, I feel like a creep… I kind of stalked your other articles and I really liked your style.” He added. “I know you’re really busy right now. But, I also know that you’d bring so much knowledge to the team. I just had to take a chance..” You chuckled.

“Hyunjin, you’re flattering me too much.” You said. “I’d love to write some pieces for your magazine when the time comes. You don’t have to be so anxious.” He gave a sigh of relief.

“Ah, Y/N. I practiced telling you like a million times.” He recounted. “My heart is beating so fast and my palms are crazy sweaty.”

“Please, I think you’d be helping me more than I’d be helping you.” You remarked.

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing. I’m enamored by your columns. I wish I could write like you do.”

“I mean, I have a whole degree on journalism so it’s not really talent, just something that I developed through the years…” You joked, he giggled.

“I’m so happy you said yes. Once I have everything confirmed, I’ll send you a contract. I hope to have a bit more budget by then.”

“It’s okay, Hyunjin. I’m always happy to help out a friend.” You reassured. “It’s my pleasure, always.”

He smiled at you, genuinely. You enjoyed Hyunjin’s company, he had made a hell of an impression inside and outside of a professional environment. Your ultimate goal was to revive The Collective Muse, but it didn’t hurt to get extra income and work on something that you truly love and, consequently, enjoy. Plus, you had a mind full of ideas that would work best in an art-centered magazine instead of a multi-media one.

Hyunjin insisted on paying for dinner and wine, which you drank a lot of after the work-related conversation. He walked you to your front door with promises of another dinner soon to talk about the gallery and the magazine. Hyunjin hugged you goodbye, his warmth felt nice against your tipsiness. You waved goodbye as you entered the apartment, locking the front door behind you.

You encountered Minho and Jisung pausing their game to stare blankly at you. Their expressions were judgy, like they were examining you. You noticed that there were several empty glasses of beer and soju bottles on the table in front of the sofa. Minho and Jisung giggled when they saw you, you rolled your eyes but smiled at the two drunk dorks in front of you.

“It seems like you had a lot of fun, huh?” You asked, while leaning down to unbuckle the straps of your heels.

“Yeah! You could’ve been here.” Jisung said in between laughs. Minho leaned into him and laughed some more.

“I have to go.” Minho said, almost seriously if it weren’t for his sheepish smile.

“There’s no way that you’re leaving in this state…” You said, “you’re staying here tonight..”

“My mom’s waiting up.” Minho said, giggling. You sat in-between them on the spacious sofa.

“Text her that you’re staying here, then.”

“Yeah, Minho. Do it.” Jisung agreed. “It’s been ages since you’ve slept over.” Your own tipsiness made you giggle at that. “You can borrow my clothes too.”

“Okay!” Minho said without hesitation. After that, you knew for a fact that Minho was drunk. You weren’t strangers to sleeping in the same place, having to do it on multiple occasions for business trips, but otherwise, Minho would always deny to stay at anyone’s house.

“Sooooo, how was your date with Yonjun?” Jisung asked with a scoff.

“It's Hyunjin; and, for the last time, it wasn’t a date. We’re just getting to know each other in a professional manner…”

“What? Like you and Jisung?” Minho snarked. Jisung laughed and high-fived Minho.

“No! He wants me to write for a magazine that he’s planning to debut soon.” You replied. Jisung’s expression changed.

“What? Are you going to leave me alone like Minho hyung did?” He slurred his words.

“Hey! I left you alone because you kissed Y/N!” Minho argued. “Wait, that sounds wrong. You and Y/N kissed. I saw you…” He made a silly face when he said the last part so you knew he wasn’t actually angry at that moment. Minho and Jisung, in their drunk state, were wondering why Minho phrased it like that.

“Okay, I’m cutting you guys off before you actually start fighting.” You said. You reached to Minho and grabbed the beer from his hands.

“Hey, hyung. What if we go for a drive now? Can we go get food?” Jisung giggled, Minho nodded enthusiastically.

“God, please, don’t.” You said. “Take a shower. You both reek of alcohol.” You looked over at Minho.

“Fine.” They said in unison.

You sat on the sofa and texted Hyunjin your gratitude for the dinner. You waited for them to finish showering because you were concerned that they could really go for a drive in this state. Minho was the first to join you, he was wearing Jisung’s clothes, which were a little too tight on him. His muscles bulged through the shirt and sweats that he was wearing. You almost blushed when he sat next to you, putting an arm around you and cuddling close to you. Jisung joined you not long after, you were used to seeing Jisung like this; he wore a matching plaid pajama set, he switched his contacts for glasses.

You made sure take all of the car keys to the bathroom when you showered. The hot water almost made you sober up. You exited the bathroom, wearing a light purple sleeping shirt and silk matching shorts. You became conscious of the fact that you no longer owned more conservative pajamas.

“Okay, guys. You can go to Jisung’s room.” You said. They stared back at you, and you placed your hands on your hips. “What now?”

“Can we sleep in your room?” Jisung asked. You sighed and rolled your eyes. You had a huge bed and you took pride in it; Jisung, on the other hand, had a single twin-sized bed. To his defense, Jisung slept on your bed during most nights.

“Do you absolutely have to?” You asked, they nodded in unison. “Fine, but no snoring or you’re out.” You turned your heel and walked towards your room.

The room was messy, but you couldn’t bother to clean it up before they invaded your space. Still, it made you more comfortable knowing that they couldn’t get up and do anything their drunk hearts desired without waking you up. You ultimately agreed for the latter reason.

Minho entered the room first, he had never been inside your room before. It looked like you: messy, artistic but cozy. The walls were painted a dark magenta color, that was almost nauseating to Minho’s minimalistic preferences. Your walls were covered in framed k-pop posters and other framed art pieces and prints that you had collected throughout the years.

You had plushies all over your room: on your vanity, on your night stand, on the bed, even on the floor. Next to the door, he noticed a half-full bookshelf, he briefly stared at it to see both art and literature books (as well as some of your old university textbooks). The room had a very characteristic scent, it smelled of lavender and the musty scent of your old books. He smiled at upon analyzing the room, it was so you.

You stared at Minho, who had spent a few minutes just scanning your room. Weird behavior, but not entirely unexpected from a drunk person. Jisung walked in a few minutes later like he owned the place, contrasting Minho’s own reaction upon entering the room. Jisung felt more at home in your room than he did in his, while Minho felt like he was invading your temple. Jisung basked in the familiar smell, he greeted your favorite plushie and helped you remove the rest of them from the bed.

He turned on your TV without asking and put on your (collective) favorite show that you had rewatched together for the nth time. None of you actually intended to watch the show, but Jisung knew that you couldn’t fall asleep in complete silence; not even the sounds of the nightlife outside would get you to slumber. He turned off the lights, only leaving a small Pochacco nightlight on in the corner of the room, aside from the television.

“Okay, what about the sleeping arrangements?” You asked. Jisung was already laying down on the left side of the bed.

“You sleep in the middle!” Jisung replied and he patted the spot next to him.

“Are you okay with that?” You asked Minho, he nodded and yawned in response.

You laid down next to Jisung, his familiar warmth and scent engulfing your senses. Minho took a while but eventually laid down next to you, the dip he made on the bed was foreign to you, his warmth was unknown. You laid on your side facing Jisung instead of Minho, Jisung was facing you too.

On the other hand, Minho faced the wall, his deep breaths suggested that he had already fallen asleep. Jisung took that as an opportunity to press his lips on your. You, who had your eyes closed, were taken aback from that because Jisung was always discrete when he kissed you, never doing it directly in front of anyone. He pressed his lips against yours a bit harder. You parted your lips and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His kisses were always messy, his lips chapped, his tongue tasted minty against yours. Jisung pulled away from the kiss and smiled sheepishly.

“Y/N… Please.” He groaned as he pressed his hips to your stomach, making you feel his growing bulge. You looked back at Minho, it seemed that he was unsuspectingly asleep and you felt guilty to have even considered being intimate with Jisung next to him.

“Minho’s asleep, Ji.” You whispered. “We can do it in the morning when he leaves…”

“I need you, Y/N. I don’t care if Minho’s here… Hell, he can join in if he wants to.” Jisung raised his voice a little, only to be shushed by you. He answered you by kissing your neck. “Seeing you with Hyunjin made me, ugh, so frustrated. You looked so good tonight. It almost makes me mad that he didn’t even try to make a move on you.” Jisung talked in between sucking hickeys into your neck. “But, you’re ours, ri- You’re mine, right?” You nodded, letting the feeling of Jisung’s lips against your sweet spots take over you.

“Ji, we have to stop, okay?” You moaned into his ear, “it’s not fair to Minho. I’m yours, I’ll be here in the morning. I’ll call in sick, we can have sex all day, okay?” Jisung scoffed but eventually nodded, separating from your neck with a pop. He placed a kiss upon your lips.

“Deal.” He said and smiled dreamily, his eyes were heavy with lust and sleep. “I love you. I love you so much, you know that, right? I’d do anything for you.”

“I know, baby. I love you too. I love you.” You replied and pressed a kiss on his lips. “Goodnight.” He already had his eyes closed, you smiled at him. Jisung always looked so angelic when he slept, his lips were slightly parted, his long lashes fell upon his cheeks. He was always so sleepy when he drank, it made your heart warm.

Unbeknownst to you and Jisung, Minho was wide awake; his heart was beating at a mile a minute. He felt his sweats tighten the second he heard the sound of you and Jisung making out. He felt his cock leaking pre cum as soon as he heard your moans, begging Jisung to stop before it escalated.

His heart nearly leaped out of his chest when Jisung said that he could join if he wanted. He so desperately wanted to. Minho swore that he could’ve cum untouched if you kept going at it with how much his cock was throbbing. He wanted to call out to you both, he wanted to join but he couldn’t get himself to make a sound. He tried his best to fall asleep, but how could he? Was this even real life? His mind was hazy with the remaining alcohol in his system, he could’ve swore that he was dreaming. Eventually he did drift off to sleep.

Your eyes shot open in the middle of the night. You had a bad habit of sleeping with your phone and were able to check the time: 3:28 am. You were still facing Jisung who had turned to face away from you but you could faintly hear his light snores. In your sleepy haze, you didn’t even notice that there was an arm draped against your stomach. Even worse, once you noticed that, you also noticed something poking your backside and Minho’s breath against the back of your neck. Goosebumps appeared all over your body and you quickly tried to escape Minho’s iron grip on you. Since you couldn’t, you shifted to face Minho. And, what a mistake that was.

Minho’s beauty was just ethereal and everlasting. His lips were parted, revealing a bit of his two front teeth, his lashes were long and curled against his prominent cheekbones, his hair was disheveled, covering part of his eyes. You couldn’t believe that Minho was a real, natural human being and not a creation of artificial intelligence. You stared at his lips, rosy pink with a prominent cupid’s bow, tempted to taste them. A feeling that you had hidden deep down inside of you when your godforsaken or god-given love triangle started to unravel.

You quickly remembered Jisung’s earlier words: Hell, he can join in if he wants. You closed your eyes at an ill attempt to fall asleep. Did Jisung want Minho too? You knew that Minho had a crush on Jisung, but did he even find you attractive? Did Jisung know something you didn’t? Was he aware that once upon a time you had feelings for Minho? Was Minho even sexually attracted to women? All of these questions raced through your mind, stopping as you felt a warm hand on your cheek. Your eyes shot open once again and looked directly at Minho. Your heart was beating rapidly, your skin again adorned with goosebumps. Minho caressed your cheek. He leaned closer to you, looking at your lips and into your eyes for approval.

“Min…” You whispered, none of you closed the distance.

“Am I wrong for wanting to kiss you?” He asked in a hushed voice, you felt his breath against your mouth.

“You like Jisung… not me. It’s him that you want to kiss…”

“I want to you too. I've wanted you since we met..." He paused, “let me taste him off you.” He said and that was all it took for you to press your lips against him. The feeling of his lips on yours was very… new. He felt different, like when you buy a new perfume after having used the same one for many years. His lips weren’t all that chapped, he tasted like as if he applied lip balm recently. He was smooth against you- so uncannily smooth. From the moment that you kissed him, you knew that this would be a vice too difficult to overcome. And, of course, you didn’t really want to overcome it either. You had thought about kissing Minho many times since you met him. When you learned that he had feelings for Jisung, you tried to repress your attraction for Minho.

Minho licked your bottom lip, making you part them in response. You slipped your tongue inside his mouth, something he didn’t expect. You, kissing him with such fervor, the way he knew that you kissed Jisung earlier. Minho couldn’t taste Jisung, not when he was too busy tasting you. Deep inside, he prayed that Jisung would kiss him when he woke up, he prayed that your relationship didn’t get damaged because of this. Especially after Jisung’s jealousy with Hyunjin. Why was he any different? Minho pulled away to look at you.

You looked divine to him, like one of the work of arts you were so obsessed with. Beautiful and raw and real. He moved so he could lay on top of you, you parted your legs to grant him some space. He pressed his lips onto yours once again but soon started peppering your neck with kisses as well, tracing over the darkened bruises Jisung left earlier. He stopped when he reached your sleep shirt and looked at you for permission. You raised your arms, Minho pulled your shirt up.

Once the shirt was off, you felt the cool breeze of the room on your skin; your nipples pebbled at the new feeling. Minho stared at you in awe. He continued kissing down your chest until he reached your breasts; he, then, took one of your nipples into his mouth, making you squirm in the process. Minho moaned when he heard you, he ground his hips into your thighs, too close but too far from where you needed him the most.

He continued to suck and pull at your nipple, occasionally looking towards Jisung to make sure that he was still asleep. You wouldn’t tell Minho, but you knew that Jisung had woken up because he stopped snoring. If Jisung didn’t complain, then it was okay to keep going. Minho’s hands roamed from your breasts to your waist to your hips and back. His small, dainty hands had such a strong hold on you. Minho suddenly stopped and sat up to look at Jisung for a moment.

“Min…” You moaned.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Jisung interrupted while turning to face you with a shit-eating grin. “It’s seriously hot as fuck.”

“Ji…” You moaned as Minho pressed his knee onto your core.

“You’re enjoying yourself, baby?” Jisung asked, you desperately nodded. Minho smirked and kissed down your stomach. “Yeah, hyung. You better please my girl or you won’t get her again.” Minho moaned against your stomach at that. You reached to grab Jisung’s arm but he pulled away from you. Minho stopped to see his next move. “I think I’d prefer watching for now.”

He continued kissing down your tummy until he reached the waistline of your sleeping shorts. He looked at you for approval and then at Jisung. You both nodded. Minho lowered your shorts and underwear alongside, revealing your wet pussy to both him and Jisung. Minho stared once again in awe, your folds were soaked, matting the hair on your pussy.

“A bush? How cute.” Minho remarked as he gathered some of your slick on his fingers. You moaned at the foreign feeling of his fingers on your pussy. He slipped one finger in and started to drag it inside and out of you.

“Add one more. And curl it. She likes that.” Jisung commented. You snapped your head towards him to see him sitting at the end of the bed with his long, pretty cock in his hand, in all his glory. Minho followed Jisung’s suggestion, you moaned at the feeling of another finger inside of you. Minho took that opportunity to rub your clit, making you see stars. His hands were soft —softer than Jisung’s calloused ones from playing guitar and working out— they were smaller too, almost gentle inside of you. Your vision shifted from Minho to Jisung and you could barely register your nearing orgasm until Minho removed his fingers.

“I would’ve added another finger but I don’t think your tight little pussy could fit it.” He said as he brought a finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your fluids. “I’d rather have you cum on my tongue, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh yeah, she tastes so good, hyung. You’re going to love her.” Jisung said and he sped up his strokes. Minho lowered his head down to meet your core. He gave your clit a few experimental licks, making your squirm beneath him. You suppressed your moans but a whimper came out of you instead. Jisung moved from the end of the bed to your side. He cradled your face with his free hand.

“Ji… can I?” You asked, he shook his head.

“Focus on hyung now.” He answered. “You can have me later, baby.” He held your hand, lowering his face to kiss it. Minho sucked your clit and then, swirled his tongue around it. You knew Minho liked to eat and if he tasted his meals like he tasted you, you prayed to be his meal everyday. He ate you out as if he were starving. He occasionally groaned against your cunt, making your whole body jerk. Your orgasm creeped up to you. You almost saw heaven when it washed over you. Your body convulsed against Minho and Jisung held you down as Minho ate you out through your orgasm. Jisung stopped jerking off, or he would cum from that glorious sight.

When Minho sat up, Jisung slid over to him, pressing his lips upon Minho’s. Jisung moaned at the unfamiliar familiarity of your taste against Minho’s unknown mouth. Minho opened his mouth so Jisung could slip his tongue inside of his. Minho’s longest awaited kiss was everything he dreamed of. He still tasted you, your sweetness mixed with Jisung’s was worth a starved man’s last meal.

Minho knew that there was no going back from this. That he was equally in love with with you and Jisung and he begged the Universe to let you both be in love with him too. To get you to forgive him for being a coward instead of staying with you both. Minho’s eyes watered. No other feeling in this world would compare to what he was feeling now.

He was sobered up on alcohol but oh, so drunk in love, lust and, hopefully, not limerence. Jisung was the one who pulled away from Minho. Both of their faces were flushed and messy with saliva. They looked over at you; you were staring at them, hazy with lust, rubbing your clit. They looked at each other, in silent agreement, Minho lowered his pants to reveal his member. His size was impressive by all means, more in girth than in length; whereas Jisung’s was longer rather than thicker. Both of their cocks were adorned with unruly pubic hair. You almost let out a moan when Minho pumped his cock.

Minho looked at you and at Jisung, once again asking for permission; Jisung nodded, and you did too. He shifted himself to his knees and places his tip against your entrance. A tight fit. He rubbed his tip through your folds and coated it with the remains of your release. He experimentally pressed his cock against your entrance. You moaned at the size of his tip entering you. He lightly thrusted his tip in and out of you. Fitting him was a stretch but pleasure is best when it’s mixed with pain, in your honest opinion.

“Min… you can keep going. I can take it.” You pleaded. Jisung took his place, once again, next to you. Minho nodded and sunk his cock inside of you, inch by inch. Your body felt ablaze, you had to hold on to Jisung as Minho bottomed inside of you.

“Fuck! This feeling… I’ve never felt something like this.” He whimpered, leaning down to kiss you, but keeping his hips still. You felt Jisung’s free hand caress your hair. You clenched at the feeling of both Minho and Jisung in such close proximity to you. Minho had his eyes shut, furrowed brows making him look more unbelievably beautiful. You looked up to see Jisung smiling at you ever so dearly. You lifted yourself up, pressing your chest against Minho’s; Jisung slipped behind you. Your head fell upon his chest and you felt this naked member against your back, slick and wet. Jisung ground his hips against your back as Minho started thrusting inside of you.

“You feel so good inside me, Min.” Your voice was breathy, his lips ghosted against yours. What a beautiful place to be, in between the two people you love the most in this lifetime. He smiled against your lips when he heard you. He kept thrusting at a slow pace, he wanted to take his time with you; because he wasn’t sure if things would play out in his favor tomorrow, when all is said and done. He thrusted a bit harder, reaching the deepest crevices of your sex. You involuntarily clenched against him, cursing.

“Baby, if you keep doing that I’ll cum. I want to pleasure you. I want you to love it. I want you to love me.” He said in between pants, whispering the last part in a way that you couldn’t tell if it actually happened. You clenched around him again, his broken, whiny voice taking the feeling to another level. You could feel Jisung’s pre-cum stain your back as he rutted against it, keeping up with Minho’s pace.

“Min… faster, please. I want you to come so badly, my love, please.” You whimpered. Minho obliged without a second thought. He quickened his pace, thrusting hard and fast, his cock shifting inside and outside of you. The friction of being inside you was almost unbearable to him. His face was gorgeous, even when erratic. You moaned his name. That was his last straw. His orgasm, much like yours, took him by surprise, not being able to pull out of you. He spilled ropes of his cum into you. He gave you everything he had: mind, body and soul. Minho swore that this had been the longest orgasm of his life, taking a few minutes to compose himself.

“I love you.” He confessed followed by a kiss to your lips in such an earnest manner. With that kiss, he wanted you to know that he was yours. Irrevocably so. Jisung placed a kiss on your head, to let you know that everything was okay. You were flushed and panted against Minho’s mouth. You kissed him back. Minho had never said he loved you before, not as a friend or anything else. You knew that he did love you, but hearing it from him meant a lot to you. Minho mustered up the strength to pull out of you, hissing at the feeling. He took a second to gawk at your spent cunt, looking so delicious drenched in white.

“Nuh-uh. I can see what you’re thinking. It’s my turn now.” Jisung snarked, lightly pushing Minho to the side. “Is this okay, baby?” He rubbed the tip of his cock on your already soaked folds. You nodded. Then, he pressed into you. Minho’s cum felt hot inside of you and Jisung’s throbbing cock felt familiar, even with the unfamiliar feeling of someone else’s cum inside of you. Having Jisung’s cock inside of you elevated the feeling. Jisung started thrusting in and out of you, with every thrust a bit of Minho’s cum trickled down your ass. Minho sat back and enjoyed the moment, the two loves of his life making love. His now-clothed cock slightly swelling up at the sight.

“Baby, I’ve been waiting so long to cum… I’m not going to last. I’ll make it up to you.” Jisung moaned against your chest as he sucked hickeys into your breasts.

“Ji, I want to make you feel good. You’ve made me feel so good…” You moaned as Jisung sped up his thrusts. You were sure that you couldn’t cum again, but that didn’t matter. Jisung’s hips stilled not long after, his own ropes of cum joining Minho’s in the depths of your sex. Jisung panted into you, dropping his head on your shoulder. He kissed it before kissing your lips.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He said. He looked over at Minho, who had the most enamored expression that you have ever seen. “I love you too, Minho.” He leaned into Minho and pressed a kiss into his lips.

“I love you both.” You added. “Thank you for this.” Jisung pulled out of you swiftly and you hissed at the feeling. He and Minho stared at your cunt, it was so full.

You felt so full. Full of them, full of experience, full of love. Without the need to contemplate if limerence was in place or not. You now knew, that it was love coating your insides. You felt love when you looked at the two people next to you and you knew they felt it too, when they looked at each other and when they looked at you.

Jisung disappeared into the hall, coming back with some wipes and water. After they cleaned you up, Minho and Jisung cuddled to each of your sides. Minho’s previous iron grip on you softened and Jisung peppered your shoulder with kisses as he whispered sweet-nothings to you as you drifted off to sleep.

What a beautiful place to be, in between the two people you love most in the world. What a beautiful feeling it is, to be loved by them in return.

To be continued...

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・

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interact-if · 4 months ago

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Our second edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series features beloved author, C.C. Hill (@when-life-gives-you-lemons-if)!

(CC is an absolute institution. What better way to celebrate Valentine’s than by doing a feature of the slice-of-life romance queen herself? CC is one the most inspiring, supportive IF writers out there, and it was a great honor to pick her brain! Read on for pandemic-setting feel good stories and Creole-based spells!)

Author: C.C. Hill

I'm from Haiti, born and raised. I love red wine, ice cream, and I'm obsessed with true crime podcasts.

Games: When Life Gives You Lemons (Slice-of-Life)

Synopsis: You play as an MC starting a new life in a small town called Lemon. It’s a story about self-discovery, love, and parenthood—a comfort story where the love interests want to sweep you off your feet.

Games: The Midnight Saga (Horror)

Synopsis: After finding yourself trapped in another dimension, you and your friends must fight for survival and defeat the monsters that lurk in the shadows. Make sure to grab a weapon as your quiet Halloween night turns into an out-of-this-world adventure!

Quote from the interview:

What mostly inspired Lemon in particular was the need for a feel-good story—a story where the character just needs a break. No magic, no monsters, just going through life and having the romance options fall in love with them no matter what. It was just the need for comfort, for feel-good moments, for romance, and a little bit of drama.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

I'm from Haiti, born and raised. I love red wine, ice cream, and I'm obsessed with true crime podcasts.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

I'm working on so many things it should be illegal for my brain to operate this way. But mainly, When Life Gives You Lemons. My plan is to focus on the final part in March, do some beta testing, and submit it to Hosted Games in April for my birthday month.

I'm also under contract with Heart’s Choice, writing Spices of the Heart, with hopes of completing it this year. On top of that, I’m working on publishing my first visual novel, The Wedding. It’s close to completion, and I have the third quarter of 2025 planned for publication.

I only started writing interactive fiction in 2020. When the pandemic hit, I needed something to keep my brain occupied, and five years later, I’ve published three games and still have a ton of projects in progress.What mostly inspired Lemon in particular was the need for a feel-good story—a story where the character just needs a break. No magic, no monsters, just going through life and having the romance options fall in love with them no matter what. It was just the need for comfort, for feel-good moments, for romance, and a little bit of drama.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

My first game, The Midnight Saga, was heavily inspired by my background and where I'm from. The story itself is based on an old Haitian folklore about not staying outside after midnight—if you do, the Keeper of Midnight will eat you. I took that idea and built the characters around it.

I even managed to include some spells written in Haitian Creole. It was a lot of fun to write, and even though Book 2 is currently on hiatus, this story has a special place in my heart because it was my first game. The characters are a representation of my people and the struggles they’ve gone through. I’m really happy that it was my debut story.

What are some of the most rewarding or challenging aspects of writing Interactive Fiction for you?

For me, it’s branching and being able to write an MC and other characters in a way that readers can truly connect with. Lately, I’ve been writing a lot of feel-good romance and slice-of-life stories, and I’m starting to feel like this is my comfort zone—and I want to stay here forever.

I never want to create a romance option that is inherently bad or purposely deceitful. My biggest challenge is writing characters who are flawed and complex—where readers can love them or hate them—but making sure they aren’t just villains for the sake of it. They’re simply existing in the world they were created in.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

My writing process is a mess. My brain gets pulled in so many directions. When I get an idea, I have to code it, shape it, and give it life—otherwise, it’s going to bug me forever. That’s why I end up with so many WIPs. I need to see them through, at least to a short demo, to see if they make sense.

My desk is also full of notes, and I basically write on anything—pieces of napkins, tissue boxes, whatever is nearby. One weird habit I have is that some of the best changes I’ve made to my games, those "spark" moments, happen when I’m in the shower. It’s weird and strange, but it works.

What’re you excited to tackle/implement/work on next? Or anything you’re looking forward to in the year ahead?

Keep writing romance and feel-good slice-of-life stories. Get When Life Gives You Lemons published this year. Focus on doing this full-time. Publish my visual novel.

Overall, just stay busy and be productive.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

To the readers—us authors don’t have all the answers. Sometimes, we start writing a story and end up forgetting certain plots or characters, which is easy to do when writing interactive fiction. So yes, we often write ourselves into a corner and just put a period there so the story can progress.

To the authors—write stories you love, something you would want to read. It makes it easier to keep going because if it’s a story you love, you’ll want to see how it ends, and that will push you to persevere.

This-or-that segment: (red = CC's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

Angsty or Cozy romances?

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

#interactive fiction #author feature #black history month #game developer #interview #cc hill #wlgyl if #midnight saga if

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thatonebirdwrites · 5 months ago

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(I wrote this article to help remind myself that even small actions like maintaining my microlibrary matters. I've included my methodology below and why I do it. I also includes some resources that go into further depth).

Archiving Our Works Offline

Since we are entering a fascist era where I live, archiving literature of all types becomes more pertinent. Especially with the current rise in book-banning and censorship (much of that focusing on marginalized groups like LGBTQIA people and Black and Indigenous people).

So how do we archive literature and keep knowledge safe from censorship or destruction by authoritarian regimes? There’s various methods, but I’ll speak of a way one can do this without a degree or beforehand knowledge of archival practices.

I’ve been archiving my eBooks and the studies I’ve read for a long time now, but it’s only recently I’ve been working on transferring them to a safer, offline drive. I also have a large physical library of books from various genres and covering many different topics. I collect books and can often find them cheap at book sale fundraisers, estate sales, sales in book stories, discounts in online stores, etc.

Due to how extensive my library is, it’s inspired my friends to read new authors or genres or to tackle new topics; the archive gave us room for discussion. It also helped friends or community members who don’t have access to a library still access a digital copy by checking-out a copy from me. Now, one doesn’t have to share their archive with anyone, but I find it helpful to do so.

The goal however should not be to archive the most famous books — as if everyone did that we wouldn’t preserve much knowledge, so focus on unique and lesser known literature and media to preserve those too. This is why I focus so much on marginalized authors, who are not well known.

Archiving knowledge is why physical libraries in a town is so crucial. They are bastions of knowledge and archived books, media, and documents. Supporting your local library and fighting with your library to keep them open is crucial. This also requires fighting against book bans that would censor/restrict what a library is allowed to put on their shelves and archives.

What I’m suggesting here isn’t to replace libraries. It’s to augment the community’s archives of knowledge, media, documents, and books. Since Public Libraries are the forefront of the fight against banned books, it can be crucial to make sure the banned or censored books are preserved somehow.

While the authoritarian state may easily target Public Libraries, they can’t so easily target civilians, especially if the archival project is done quietly among small groups of people. These smaller projects are how some of the lost knowledge from before the 1930s Nazi book-burnings were salvaged; everyday people like you and me archived books and documents and kept them safe.

Experts often discuss four stages to censorship:

Stage one: Not allowing certain topics to be discussed. This is similar to laws in Florida, where speaking of LGBTQIA folks (trans in particular) can be penalized. This primarily impacts schools, but not necessarily the publishing industry as a whole.

Stage two: Bills that censor the Internet. The terrible KOSA bill (Kids Online Safety Act) is an example, where it sought to censor the existence of LGBTQIA and/or Black and Indigenous literature, media, and documents on the Internet. This is where sites that carry these media may start to go dark digitally.

Stage three: Penalizing anyone who sells, disseminates, or produces censored materials. This is when authors, publishers, bookstore owners, libraries, and others are attacked directly and penalized for having any literature or media the state deems ‘bad.’ The penalty can range from fines to jail time to death.

Stage four: book burnings. This is full-on blatant Nazi-esque book burnings and trashing of any institution or public archive of knowledge and media that holds the censored materials. For example, the Sex and Gender Institute in Germany in 1930s was the first targeted institution for book burnings by Nazis. A century worth of data on LGBTQIA (and specifically trans and intersex individuals) were lost. The only remnants that survived was documents smuggled out before the book burnings.

For the country in which I reside, we are hovering between stage one and two. I suspect by the end of these four years, we’ll be closer to stage three. This is why it’s crucial to keep an archive of knowledge, and if many people are doing this, the higher likelihood that more data can be preserved. It may seem daunting, but that’s why it’s helpful to work with other people and focus on a specific genre or topic for the archival project you start.

I personally started with Leftist books focused on anti-capitalism, anti-racism, building communes, and science fiction and fantasy by marginalized authors. I was a little broad in my choice of topics, but there’s no need to be this broad.

For example, one could pick to archive only trans literature or only literature by Indigenous authors. Also remember, you cannot archive every book in your chosen topic. You will be curating these archives to some degree because that’s inescapable. Do not fret over this or agonize over being unable to archive all the books.

Preserving some knowledge is better than losing it all. That’s the goal. Take it a step at a time. For me, I’ve been adding to my archive for over four years. It’s sitting at around 25 gigabytes, and it’s something I added to slowly over that time. I took breaks. I set aside time each month to update the archive, and I asked others for help during high pain times. (This was helpful during the start of Covid, where I started up a digital archive of studies. Friends helped catalog them.)

Preserving knowledge and literature is crucial in times where censorship and book bans are on the rise. There’s a lot of great knowledge, literature, and media out there that should be preserved for future people to read or watch.

When an authoritarian regime starts to censor the sharing of knowledge, data, and stories, this is when archival practices become crucial for the survival of people’s history, culture, and stories. Anyone can work on an archival project, though I recommend building up a group to help make it easier in the long run.

1. Hardware.

Obtain a large storage drive, as in a 1 or more terabyte SSD drive. This will serve as the data repository for the digital portion of the archive. This drive must not be used regularly. It’s meant to store the data, then be placed in a safe storage area (at just the right temperature to avoid degradation of the drive).

Since books can range in size, multiple storage drives may be needed. If one is seeking to also rescue/archive media such as photographs, videos, music, podcasts, etc — then you’ll need larger storage drives. This storage drive should not be connected to the Internet in any way. It’s meant as an offline archival device.

Servers can also be used as archives, where the data is stored on the server, but a server is connected to the Internet. Depending on the circumstances, it may not be wise to have the back-up archive in the cloud. A back-up should be stored offline for any archive security.

Try to avoid cloud storage, especially if based in the USA. Do not use googledrive or dropbox or any similar cloud storage. If you must use cloud storage, always have an offline backup on your own SSD drives, and seek out a storage service that is based in a country with good privacy laws that has encryption embedded in it such as cryptpad.org.

Next make sure the computer hardware needed to open those drives are kept in top-notch shape. The digital archive will end up useless if there isn’t a device capable of connecting with the storage drive. Most devices with USB ports have the capability to connect to a storage drive.

2. File types.

You need to make sure the file types used in digital storage can be easily accessed by the majority of devices currently in existence. At this time of writing in January 2025, PDFs, ePub, .Doc, .mp3, .mp4, .wave, and .zip are the most common file types and the most accessible. Could this change in the next decade? Maybe, but for now, focus on the most common file types that are accessible by the majority of systems.

3. Avenues of procuring the literature for archiving.

There’s two forms of archival data: Physical form and Digital form.

For the physical form, that consists of print books, magazines, newspapers, photos, etc. These can be purchased online or in physical stores. They also can be traded for using a grey market system. (Grey market is where the item is obtained legally but then sold by someone who may not have a license to sell. Black market is when item is obtained illegally.) Physical forms of literature are the superior archival forms. Books can easily outlast our lifetimes if stored in a dry, lukewarm temperature storage space.

Digital forms do not have a physical version of the data. The storage device or server is the only sign it exists in the physical realm. Digital forms can be compressed into smaller file sizes for long-term storage. Buying eBooks is also cheaper than a print physical copy. There is also online PDF/eBook libraries where one can download the book for free (for legal reasons, I cannot recommend. For ethical reasons, I maintain archiving literature to make sure it doesn’t disappear or is destroyed by censorship is important in the long-term).

Once the item is procuring (in hopefully legal way as I in no way suggest breaking the law), then it becomes important to store it appropriately.

4. Storage of archival data and literature.

The storage drives in point 1 become crucial for the digital forms of literature and other data. Storage drives need to be kept in a relatively dry, cool space and kept offline. When I saw cool, I’m speaking of between 50 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Best to keep it at a steady temperature. I prefer 70 to 75 degrees Fahrenheit. This prolongs the shelf-life of your drive. To avoid stressing the drive by using it often, try to time the storage so that you store as many files as you can in one boot-up.

Another important component to using storage drives is the power of encryption. A drive can be encrypted, and the key needed to use it safely guarded. I’d recommend this only if there are concerns of increased scrutiny to penalize the possession of certain types of literature and archival documents and media.

For example, if a law is passed to ban trans or queer literature, there’s a few ways the law could be written: it can focus on who sells or prints this literature, which means possession of it is not part of the law. A second way is to penalize both selling, printing, and possession. It’s this latter form of law that needs to be watched out for, and if it comes to be, that’s when encrypting the drives and keeping that key safe is crucial.

I am not an encryption expert, however. So be sure to research encryption to determine the best way to build up this security.

For physical storage, the area needs to also be dry and in that same temperature range. Storage in bins such as metal or plastic bins can also help preserve the books and magazines. Finding a space big enough can be difficult. Sure, a storage center could be used, but if you lose access to it or one is raided, you’d have no control over rescuing your archive. Better to work with your community (and friends) to store it yourself, so you have control over who has access to it.

5. Building up these archival Libraries in your communities.

If this feels daunting, then take a step back and think about who you know that may be interested in assisting. You can then talk with those people and work out a system to spread the tasks and make the project less intense. By working together in community, you will lessen the risk of burnout, which is crucial since it can take anywhere from weeks to years to recover from burnout.

What is burnout? It’s when stress on the body and mind pushes one past their limits and causes illness — physical or mental illness. The body and mind are exhausted, and so activities becomes increasingly hard to do. The best way to avoid this is to share the burden in projects like these. Take breaks often to give your body and mind rest. Spend time with family and/or friends and/or pets to help recharge. Take some solitary time too.

Working with other people in community is crucial for surviving fascist regimes. We are not islands, as that saying goes, and even islands are not isolated and independent. For the island relies on the larger, interconnected ecosystems of earth to exist.

Mariame Kaba, who wrote ‘We Do This Till We Free Us,’ wrote about her father and something her father shared with her: “You have a responsibility to live in this world. Your responsibility is not just to yourself. You are connected to everyone…. because the world doesn’t work without everyone.”

We are interconnected with other people and the environment as a whole. No one is “self-made” as that is individualistic capitalist propaganda; all of us had people throughout our lives that taught us what we know, socialized us into society’s norms (or out of those norms), assisted us in hard times, and so forth. Humanity are inherently social creatures, so do not discount the power of community.

Resources

For ways to build up your own groups and communities, I recommend starting with Surviving the Future edited by Branson, Hudsen, and Reed and How We Show Up by Mia Birdsong. Group-building can be as simple as a book club, who meets monthly, deciding to take on archiving the books they read.

For further reading, the following article discusses archiving and rescuing trans literature, but it’s tips apply to everything I’ve discussed above and to many other types of literature: A Practical Guide To Resisting Censorship. It includes tips for ways people can work together to safeguard knowledge and literature, which is nicely organized based on your role in the literature ecosystem.

Feel free to share thoughts and tips below. :)

#archiving #archival #archives #knowledge #books #literature #organizing #microlibraries #micro-library #building community #building community knowledge

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stargirllanaa · 8 months ago

Text

Death Grips. II - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

Series masterlist

A/n: hey guys, I’m currently out of the country so this took me a little longer than I wanted it to but hope u enjoy and pls leave feedback and lmk how u like it!

Part: II

………

As you stormed to your dorm, the only thoughts in your head were, What was the point of all of this? And Why was he doing all of this? He had already taken so much from you; why wasn't it enough? You thought you had been going crazy. First, it was the kiss at the party; now, this. I mean, did he still want power over you that bad?

~~~~

The sound of Rafe's engine created a soft hum behind the blaring sound of his music as he used one hand to steer through the night and the other to turn the volume up slightly before resting it comfortably on your thigh. Raindrops smacked hard against The windshield to be quickly whipped away the second they did.

You hadn't felt like yourself in a while. I mean, of course, you felt like yourself, but you felt like a shell, a casing of what you used to be. Your friends had noticed it too, and the abuse you had been enduring daily was getting harder to hide, not just the bruises but your overall mood; whenever you were happy, it didn't seem as big.

Whenever you were sad, it seemed like the end of the world. You constantly felt anxious, wondering if you would say the wrong thing to Rafe; honestly, it made you want to stay completely silent around him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing. It wasn't that important; it was just one of your classmates texting you about a project the two of you were working on together. What you hadn't noticed was Rafe peaking at your phone, too.

"Who's that?" Rafe questioned almost instantly, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the road.

"It's just Cam from my research class," you replied nonchalantly, scrunching your eyebrows as you tried to focus on reading the text.

"Didn't I tell you to block him?" Your boyfriend reminded you more than he asked, and his tone hit a dangerous edge.

"Yeah, but—"you try to backtrack and defend yourself before being cut off by the sound of your boyfriend hitting the steering wheel hard, making you flinch, almost as if he was trying to warn you to shut up.

"There is no ‘but’ if I tell you to do something... " he took a long breath, shaking his head. “You should respect me enough to do it." When you didn't respond, Rafe took that as a sign to do something to make you respond.

This happened very often. When it came to Rafe, you would tend to shut down, too scared to say the wrong thing.

As you stared out the window, not wanting to argue anymore, arms crossed over your chest, you noticed that the nearby scenery started to drift by faster than it should. Rafe's engine grew louder as his truck moved quicker, and when you looked at him, it all clicked. His knuckles were nearly white from gripping the steering wheel so tight, his eyes shifting back and forth from the road, and you in his face hard as a rock.

"R-Rafe?" You stuttered as the speed of his truck continued to grow, the speedometer moving further and further to the right. But he didn't say anything, and now he wasn't even looking at you, his eyes glued to the road as he continued to push the gas.

"Slow down." Your voice shakes as you try to speak calmly through your growing anxiety, your head whipping back and forth between the road and him. When he still didn't respond, you started to lose it.

"RAFE, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!" You were now screaming through tears; this wasn't fucking funny at all. He was playing with your life, and if this wasn't a joke and he was seriously going to crash the car and kill you both over a text message, it made you feel even more stupid. Rafe had done more than enough for you to leave him, yet you were stupid because you still loved him and couldn't imagine yourself without him.

Instead of slowing down as you asked, Rafe hit the brakes forcefully, causing you to fly forward in your seat and slam your head hard against the dashboard.

"Fuck.." you mumbled under your breath, holding your now-pounding forehead.

Relief washed over you as you looked out the window to see your boyfriend had stopped the truck entirely, but that relief was short-lived when you turned to look at him and were met with cold, calculated blue eyes.

"Get out of my car." Rafe leaned closer, his voice low and dripping with a sinister calm. "I'm not playing around. Get out." The way he said it, flat and final, sent a chill down your spine.

You hesitated, trying to search his expression for any hint of remorse or softness, anything that could explain why he was acting this way. But his face was stone, unfeeling and unmoved by the terror and confusion that must have been clear in your eyes.

"Get out of my car," he repeated, his tone colder, firmer. But you just sat there, clutching your bag and staring at the windshield, hoping that if you didn't move, he'd realize how irrational he was being and calm down.

"Rafe, please… it's pouring out, and it's late. Just take me back to campus, and we can talk about this later," you pleaded, your voice shaking but determined not to show how scared you really felt.

But instead of softening, Rafe's expression hardened, and he leaned over, his hand reaching across to unlatch your seatbelt with a rough pull. "I told you to get out, and I'm not repeating myself again."

You flinched, holding onto the edge of the seat as if it would anchor you there. "No, You're not leaving me out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm not getting out," you replied, your voice firm despite the tremor behind it.

Without another word, Rafe climbed out of the driver's side and rounded the car to your door. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof intensified as he pulled your door open. In one swift motion, he reached in, grabbing your arm tightly, making you wince in pain. You tried to pull back, but his grip was too firm.

"Rafe, stop! Please!" you cried, your voice desperate as you clutched at the car door, digging your fingers into the edges, trying to hold on.

Ignoring your pleas, Rafe yanked harder, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you from the seat until your feet hit the wet pavement. You stumbled, nearly slipping as he let go, and you could only stand there, drenched and shivering, watching him with wide eyes.

"Maybe you should ask Cam to come pick you up." he sneered before slamming the door shut and stepping hard on the gas. The tires spun momentarily, spraying water in your direction as he sped off into the night, leaving you alone on the empty road.

The silence that followed was thick and pressing; the only sound was the faint drumming of raindrops against the pavement. You felt as if you were standing outside of yourself, staring at this girl who looked so broken and small.

With a shaky breath, you fished your phone out of your pocket, fingers trembling as you scrolled to Cam's number. You hesitated for a second, feeling a strange, bitter sense of defeat. Rafe had already stripped so much of your self-worth; even calling Cam felt like another small submission to Rafe's control. But you couldn't stay here.

The phone rang twice before Cam's voice filled the line, warm and slightly sleepy. "Hey y/n?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. The sob you'd been holding back escaped, the weight of the night pressing down on you all at once.

"Hey, are you alright?" Cam's tone shifted instantly, concern flooding his voice.

You took a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Can you… can you come get me?"

~~~~~

As you woke up, your heart continued pounding from your dream. It felt so real, and it was for you at one point, and it felt like torture to keep having to relive it again.

~~~~~

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you looked out over the crowd. The night air was crisp, the stadium lights casting everything in a golden glow. You hadn't been to a football game in ages, and even though the noise and energy of the crowd were overwhelming, you were glad you'd let your friends drag you out here.

Your friend Bella leaned over, nudging you with a grin. "Isn't this so much better than moping in your dorm all night?"

You forced a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm glad I came." You meant it, or at least part of you did. They'd insisted you join them tonight, hoping to pull you out of the isolation you'd slipped into over the past few months. For a second, you almost didn't come, thinking of all the excuses you could make. But here you were, dressed in your school colors, surrounded by people who cared, trying to be normal again.

Yet, as you watched the players run across the field, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed. How you used to feel comfortable in crowds like these, carefree and loud. Now, it felt like a thin layer of normalcy you were trying to wear, hoping it would eventually fit.

As the game broke for halftime, you stood up. "I'm gonna grab some snacks. Anyone want anything?"

They all jumped at the offer. Mia gave you a list with a smirk. "Just think of it as your penalty for making us drag you out here."

Rolling your eyes, you headed for the concession stand, weaving through the crowd until you finally reached the line. It felt oddly peaceful to be alone, a chance to catch your breath from the excitement of the game and the effort of trying to act carefree.

But then, just as you stepped forward in line, a familiar voice behind you made your heart stop.

"Hey," Rafe murmured, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft.

You froze, debating whether to even turn around. You hadn't spoken to him since he ruined your breakfast last week, and you'd been determined to keep it that way. But something in his tone caught you off guard, and reluctantly, you glanced back at him.

"Can we talk?" he asked, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked almost contrite, but his eyes still held that edge, the exact look you'd seen too many times.

You crossed your arms, already feeling your walls go up. "What is there to talk about?"

He sighed, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. "I just think… we should put everything behind us. I mean, we're bound to see each other, and now that Topper and Mia are getting closer, it would be better if we could just… let it go."

Your jaw tightened. "Let it go? You mean forget everything you put me through?"

He shrugged as if that should be easy. "Look, that's just how I am, you know? You could never handle me—"

"You're right," you interrupted, your voice stronger than expected. "I couldn't handle the lying. I couldn't handle being with someone who hurt me just because that's who they are. I couldn't handle seeing you fuck another girl."

He barely flinched, his expression annoyingly indifferent. "You think you saw something. We were going through a rough patch anyway, and you know it."

Your hands shook as you clenched your fists, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, I saw it. You lied over and over and then acted like I was the crazy one for not believing you."

Rafe rolled his eyes as if he'd heard it all before. "Look, we don't have to keep going back and forth about this. I'm here trying to make things easier. If you want to keep holding on to some old grudge, that's on you."

You took a breath, forcing yourself to keep your composure. "Rafe, it's not a grudge—it's knowing who you are. I know you're never going to admit it, but I'm done pretending like you didn't ruin us."

He shrugged, dismissing your words with a half-smirk. "Fine, whatever you say."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling both angry and strangely free. You'd finally confronted him, and he'd shown you exactly who he was—again.

When you returned to your friends, arms full of snacks, Mia looked at you curiously. " Is everything okay?"

You forced a smile. "Yeah. Better than it's been in a while."

When the game reached its conclusion, as you walked towards the stadium's exit, a familiar voice caught your ear.

"hey, y/n!" The tall brunette man called out to you.

It was Cam. The two of you had become friends since he picked you up after Rafe left you on the street. Well, a little bit more than friends. You wouldn't say the two of you were dating because you'd never put a label on it. Still, you had been ‘talking’ to him since the beginning of the year and sleeping in his room occasionally.

You stopped in your tracks, asking your friends to wait for you before approaching him. He was leaning against a wall by himself, smirking at you as you walked over. It felt good to feel wanted, but part of you knew anything with Cam would never work because you couldn't even picture yourself being in another relationship after Rafe.

"I fancy seeing you here," Cam joked in a mock British accent, making you both cringe and slightly giggle.

You rolled your eyes, but a grin tugged at your lips. “Nice accent, really nailed it.”

Cam chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “What can I say? I aim to impress.” He leaned closer, his gaze settling on you with that familiar warmth. “So, you’re actually out tonight. Didn’t expect to see you at a game.”

“Yeah, it’s… been a while,” you admitted, shifting slightly as his hand found your arm, his fingers lingering just a bit longer than necessary. A warmth spread from where he touched, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something deeper than friendship.

His fingers trailed down to your wrist, tracing lazy circles with his thumb. “You should come out more,” he murmured. “I miss seeing you around.” There was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen like he actually cared about you—not just as a friend, but something more.

You were about to respond when you felt an odd weight on you, as though someone was watching. You glanced over Cam’s shoulder, and your stomach twisted as you locked eyes with Rafe. He was leaning against the far wall, his expression dark and unreadable, his gaze trained on the two of you with a sharp intensity that sent a chill down your spine. But he didn’t make a move to approach. Instead, he just watched, his jaw tight and his eyes simmering between anger and resentment.

Cam must have noticed the shift in your expression because he gently cupped your face, drawing your focus back to him. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, forcing Rafe out of your mind as you looked back at Cam. The concern in his eyes melted away the anxiety for a second. “Yeah, sorry,” you murmured, leaning into his touch just a bit. “I’m good.”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been wanting to ask if maybe you wanted to go out sometime, just us. You know… something different?”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek made you feel almost safe as if you could finally move forward. You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

In your peripheral vision, you could still see Rafe standing there, unmoving, his gaze locked onto you. But this time, you didn’t look back. You stayed in the moment with Cam, focusing on his warm smile and its comfort, realizing maybe it was finally time to let yourself be happy.

~~~~~

You sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping idly through a textbook, when Mia burst into the room with a huge grin, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Guess what!” she announced, eyes shining with excitement.

You looked up, arching an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Topper invited me to the beach tonight,” she said, drawing out the last word with a delighted sigh. “And… he told me I could bring you, too.”

At that, you felt yourself go stiff. “Topper invited me? Why would he want me there?”

Mia rolled her eyes, crossing the room to sit beside you. “He’s just being nice! He knows we’re close, and he wants me to feel comfortable. And maybe he figured you’d be the best buffer in case things got, you know, awkward.”

You stared at Mia, skepticism etched across your face. “Mia, you know Topper and Rafe are best friends, right? You really think he just invited me along for the fun of it?”

Mia waved a dismissive hand, her expression somewhere between pleading and confident. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but Topper promised me it wouldn’t be a big deal. Besides, this is about me and him. You’re just my plus-one, so I don’t feel like I’m getting in too deep alone.”

You folded your arms, still unconvinced. “And you don’t think Rafe’s going to be there? I haven’t exactly been dying to see him.”

Mia huffed, crossing her arms to match your posture. “Okay, I get that, but you don’t have to talk to him. Just be there with me and have a good time. We can stick together, and if he even looks at you wrong, I’ll drag you out of there myself.”

You could see how badly she wanted you to say yes, and you were tired of feeling like the shadow of your past with Rafe was lurking over everything. Maybe if you went, it would feel less like he was still dictating your life from a distance. Still, the thought of facing him—even at a crowded beach with Mia by your side—made your stomach twist.

“Fine,” you finally sighed, feeling your defenses weakening. “I’ll go. But if he starts anything, we’re leaving. Promise?”

Mia grinned and crossed her fingers. “Promise. And trust me, this is going to be good for you. Just give it a shot.”

……

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