#if we're running on vibes then why the hell not

[time-like-tears-in-rain]

"he followed you home through the time vortex!"

[giantkillerjack]

What up I'm married to a tall person who is basically Milo Thatch but agender, and uhhh, basically, yeah, everyone should be jealous and I LOVE MY CUTE TWINK NERD WIFE!!!!! 😤😤🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤👌👌

[squorttle-pox]

so glad you included those "y̴̨͚̙͎͓̞͍̯͒̚͜ọ̵̢͈̲͓̤̝̠̄̔ǘ̴̦͇̲̜̩̮̫͈̯͓͖͍̋̿̋̾͂̅̾̋͆̒͐́̚͝͝'̷̨̝͚̞̤̲̟̜̳̩̭͓̺͛r̸̠̯̲̊̽̅͋ȩ̷̘̟̦̟̠͖̬̰̗̈̽̇́̓͜ ̴̨̛͇̥͔̼̗̹͇̺͈̥̩͙̥̦͓͖͇͇͒̀̓̄͋̈́̎͆̀̔̈́̆̕s̶͗̿̐̄͌͛͛̈͋͛̿͘l̸̨̠̻̲͓̭͈̰͈͎͈͔͇̳͗̔͜ó̸̼̣̠̒̇p̸̙̰͇̯͕̒̂̽̓̆̎͗͒̓̅̄̄̚p̴̧̘̲̪͔̻͒ͅy̸̡̛̦̺̹͔͎͓̺̰̫̓͐̈́̓͋͋͘̚͠ͅͅͅ" frames. when that part happened i thought i went into a coma and it was the Radiant Light beckoning me to cross the Threshhold. if a picture is worth a thousand words, that moment is worth a thousand sacrifices. even through the screen i could feel the true meaning of Smooth. i am asexual but is this what lust feels like

and his eyes. oh, his e y e s. they ought to be classified as their own entity. those pupils alone, with all their different shapes and sizes, are enough to melt all my bones into goopy sludge

He is so gorgeous, such a looker. Every frame he looks so good, he can look so fucking demonic, he still looks so good, every frame of him can literally be a wallpaper, people talk shit about his hair, and I will admit the back is atrocious, like come on grow it out, or some. But I still low-key fuck with it, low-key low-key! The front I mean, it looks so bouncy, soft, and thick, and I just LOVE MEN with long-ish hair, it's the death of me. Please Viv don't kill him off, PLEASE!!! He is the best. Can't wait to see more of this dapper fellow in season 2, it's gonna be GREAT! I bet he has his mother's eyes, they're so pretty. That'd be so cute, I want him to see his mom, even if for one time, and one time only...I'd actually start crying.

[ozzgin]

Okay so how I understand the omega stuff

Alphas: go into rut (standard fuck or die shit, or at least fuck or be incredibly uncomfortable and go feral) have big penises. Even the ladies have penises. Have knots on penises that swell during sex. Can smell omegas. If they smell an omega in heat they go into rut.

Omegas: go into heat (get fucked or die/be incredibly uncomfy) even the guys can get pregnant. Make their own lube to be fucked. Smell very good to Alphas when in heat. Can smell alpha in rut, and then go into heat.

It's basically sex pollen+size stuff+dominance dynamics+power imbalance+(oftentimes)mpreg. Can have good worldbuilding, but often is just used for a bunch of soulmate type stuff with some vague werewolf vibes.

Wait, THAT's what the fuck or die trope is? When I completed this meme I thought it's some sort of bizarre, secret agent kind of trope where you must copulate with the person locked in the chamber with you before the walls crush you or something. I was wondering why the hell would OP include such a specific, outlandish scenario. 😭 Bless you anon, as we Romanians like to say: I would've died dumb.

Man, I had such a vivid imagery in my head, too.

"Damn it, we're trapped in here! Wait, the villain left us a note...it says if we shag on camera within the next 15 minutes, the bomb won't detonate."

"I can't figure out the cables," your partner says, sweating profusely.

The clock ticks. You're running out of options. You may have to fuck, after all.

[self-made-purgatories]

From the Half-Empty Loveseat and the Cuck Chair to the Miracle on the Biobed

Master Post for my Season-3-to-TMP Spirk Breakup Meta Analysis Series

People complain all the time about the odd, out-of-character writing in Season 3 of Star Trek TOS. They also complain that there is no canon explanation for the reason why Spock left Kirk and Starfleet to attempt kolinahr by the start of TMP. Why are these two things both so weird?

But, consider this: What if these two weird things are related? What if the odd actions are not out of character at all? What if Season 3's subtext leads directly to Spock's abandonment of the life he built in Starfleet, and more specifically, to his separation from Kirk by the start of TMP?

What if we're actually watching a painful behind-the-scenes Spirk breakup unfold in real time?

A few months ago, before I had ever seen TMP, I watched "Requiem for Methuselah" for the first time and the vibes were so weird that I started to dissect the subtext by writing my way through it. And the subtext kept getting deeper, episode by episode. And so I kept writing about it. And then I finally saw TMP, and I suddenly realized that, not only was I right, these things are all connected. Season 3 and TMP are not actually doubly weird; they are two related weirds that cancel each other out. And, even better, the pain and angst of Season 3 eventually leads to a happy ending in TMP!

To create this series, I wrote over 20,000 words on the subject in the space of a few weeks. (Thank you, hyperfixation.) Recently, a couple of the posts are making the rounds again. People keep reblogging segments of the series, so apparently there is an audience larger than my weirdass self and the void I am shouting into.

So, for your pleasure and convenience, I have reassembled the full series here in chronological order. Some of them are short, silly posts, and others are lumbering behemoth posts with tons of subtext to comb through and mull over. Enjoy the journey with me.

PART 1: END OF SEASON 3

1. The Half-Empty Loveseat and Other Tragedies Or, the Episode Where Kirk Broke Spock's Heart (and Mine) - S3 E19 Requiem for Methuselah

Spock has had a rough Season 3 so far. But this is the first time that Kirk's behavior is the direct cause. Kirk's blind cruelty causes irreparable damage to both Spock and their relationship.

2. they're still fighting, aren't they and one type of music - S3 E20 The Way to Eden

Vibes are off between Kirk and Spock. Spock finds reasons to be elsewhere and pointedly spends more time with a fun hippie guy than with Kirk.

3. From the Half-Empty Loveseat to the Cuck Chair - S3 E21 The Cloud Minders

Watching him sleep, watching him flirt, shouting in his face: Spock and Kirk try to act calm and professional, but tension bubbles under the surface.

4. why. WHY does it make me so fucking happy to watch this one man ogle this other man's ass like this - S3 E22 The Savage Curtain

Does this mean their fight is over??

5. To Hell and Back: The Seven Deadly Sins of Spock’s Inferno - S3 E23 All Our Yesterdays

In the tradition of ancient epic stories, Spock takes an allegorical journey to hell with McCoy as his guide, and his unusual behavior there – a descent into madness by way of all Seven Deadly Sins – gives us a peek into his ongoing internal struggle.

6. Running "Interference" - S3 E24 Turnabout Intruder

"He says, finally, resigned, 'I believe you.'" I'm pretty sure Spirk have broken up for good now. Their relationship is strained and it has affected their prior intimacy of knowing each other inside and out.

PART 2: THE MOTION PICTURE

7. The Betrayal of Irritation - TMP Part 1

Spock attempts kolinahr. But of course, it doesn't work. He is running away from life, away from love, away from Kirk, rather than running towards enlightenment. It was never going to work. 

When Spock returns to the Enterprise, he emanates a carefully constructed façade of aloof disdain. "I don't care," he seems to say. But if he didn't care, he wouldn't have come at all. And now that he is here, anything is possible.

8. "To Come Alongside and Lock On" - TMP Part 2

Two very small but very important details precede Spock and Kirk's reunion on the bridge of the Enterprise.

9. Feeling Trapped, Crisis of the Self, and the Hidden Meaning of Spock's Two Steepled Fingers - TMP Part 3

Spock's steepled fingers are a self-soothing gesture that first appears in "Plato's Stepchildren" and recurs in TMP during the kolinahr scene and a tense faceoff with V'Ger. What does this gesture tell us about Spock's inner struggle?

10. Yes, He is Here. But He is Still Gone: The Five Stages of Grief (and Seven Sorrows) of Heartbroken Kirk - TMP Part 4

Kirk openly experiences all five stages of grief in regards to Spock's cold return. Meanwhile, the bookend to Spock's experience of the Seven Deadly Sins in "All Our Yesterdays" is this: Kirk's experience of Seven Sorrows, seven metaphorical knives in the heart given to him in rapid succession by Spock's return.

11. sidebar: loyalty, obedience, friendship - TMP Part 5.5

In which I go a little nuts in the notes of someone else's post into greater detail about the three times Spock refuses Kirk's invitation to sit down.

12. Bare Feet on Holy Ground: A Story Of Doubt and Acceptance. - TMP Part 5

McCoy is the voice of reason, but love transcends reason. When Kirk finally lets go and reaches the Acceptance stage of grief, a miracle occurs: The steepled fingers are gone. All that is left is Spock's hand in Kirk's.

And they live happily ever after.

[armpirate]

The Vows Between Us (Part 2) || San

Part 1

Pairing: Choi San x f reader || Arranged marriage

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, teasing (Minors DNI. Refrain from reading if you aren't over 18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Aprox. time of reading: 40/50 minutes

Summary: You thought it was over. The divorce papers had been signed, the marriage you never wanted finally behind you. You were free. Or so you believed. Months passed, and you built a life without him, a life where his name was just a whisper in your past. You even convinced yourself that the fire between you had burned out. Until he showed up at your door, with that same devastating smirk, with eyes that still held every war you had fought against each other. And with words that shattered the fragile world you had created "I never sent the papers." Now, you’re back in his world, back where it all began. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s a battle of wills, of emotions too tangled to ignore. Because the man who once pushed you away is now pulling you closer. And the most terrifying part? You don’t know if you want to resist.

MASTERLIST

Two months had passed since that afternoon when San left the divorce papers on the counter, months since you signed them and stormed out of his house. You thought it was over. Final. You got the few things you had brought in your suitcase the first day you showed up there. You made sure to forget everything that was related to him.  

He had made his choice, and you made yours -you walked away and never looked back. 

That was the original plan, after all. You agreed on that arranged marriage, you both played the perfect couple and then you got divorced when he got the position he married you for. Several couples ended things after they realized they tied the knot way too early, so your case wouldn't stand out. 

Life after him was quiet. 

You slipped into a routine, convincing yourself this was freedom. The first three weeks, you tried to focus on yourself, you tried to find a job, you found someone new -a man with kind eyes, soft words, and no complications. He wasn't San, but that was the point. There was no fire, no chaos, no heartbreak lurking around the corner. You were finally getting that peace you had never been able to have. 

You almost believed it was enough. Until you received his message:

"Come back. We have unfinished business"

For a moment, you sat frozen, staring at the screen, your pulse quickening. The message was too simple, too loaded with meaning. You'd spent months trying to rebuild your life, you spent months trying to forget about him and move on. Whatever unfinished business San thought you had was none of your concern. 

You deleted the message.

It didn't matter. You weren't going back. You didn't know about him, but you were sure every business related to him was pretty much finished. 

At least, that was your idea -until the doorbell rang.

You hesitated, your heart in your throat as you approached the door. You didn't know why, but the vibe you felt that day, the shiverings running up your spine, warned you not to open the door and just go on with what you were doing.  

When you opened it, your world tilted and you knew you should've listened to your instinct. 

San stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes sharp and unrelenting, like he hadn't missed a single moment of your absence. His black suit clung to his frame, his expression unreadable, though there was an unmistakable heat in his gaze.

"Miss me?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with something darker, something possessive.

Your breath caught, but you quickly recovered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His eyes flicked to your bare ring finger, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think you know."

"No, I don't," you snapped, crossing your arms. "You signed the divorce papers, I signed the divorce papers. It's done. We're done."

San let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "No, Y/n. We're not."

Your heart stopped for a split second. "What are you talking about?"

He stepped closer, the air between you charged with tension. "I never sent the papers. I signed them, sure. But they never left my desk."

It hit you like a punch to the stomach. The past few months -the distance, the quiet life you tried to build- had all been based on a lie. You didn't know why you were so surprised, everything with San was always based on a lie. 

"You've got to be kidding me," you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief. "Why?"

San's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. "Because I wasn't ready to let you go."

Anger bubbled up inside you, masking the ache in your chest. "You don't get to decide that for me."

"I think I just did," he said, his voice low and steady, the weight of his words suffocating. "And I'm not leaving until you understand that this..." he gestured between you. "...is far from over."

"You're insane," you said, stepping back to put distance between you. "I've moved on, San. I have a new life. Someone else..."

"Someone who isn't me," he cut in, his tone dangerously soft. "And we both know how that story ends."

"I don't care about what the fuck you do, but I'm not going back to you" you challenged him. "Don't want to send those papers? Fine, I'll get you to court if that's what you want".

"You can do that" he nodded "But I'm afraid it won’t turn out well for you" his smirk widened at your confused expression. "You know... You left our home, you didn't even come to pick up your things because you sent someone else instead" his eyes narrowed "Abandonment isn't well seen during divorce trials". 

You didn't want to lose your temper, but your voice broke as you raised it to confront him "What fucking abandonment are you talking about? You have the divorce papers, you signed them first". 

"What divorce papers?" he lifted his eyebrow. "It's a bit difficult to prove something when you don't have physical proofs". 

Your blood was boiling, your body was trembling with rage and frustration. How could he dare coming back to your life that way? After everything he did to you? Why was he making things so difficult? 

You clenched your fists, refusing to give in to the whirlwind of emotions he was stirring inside you. "You don't control my life anymore."

"No," San said, closing the space between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "But you're still my wife, so get that pretty ass back home if you don't want to make things worse for you". 

You stood there, frozen, as San's words settled in the air between you. The anger, confusion, and pain bubbled up inside you, but there was something else too -a flicker of uncertainty.

You'd spent months convincing yourself it was over. That you were free. But standing here, facing him again -looking into those eyes that knew you better than anyone else- it felt like you were right back where you started.

"I'm not going back," you said, but the words came out more fragile than you meant them to.

"Then don't," he replied, his voice soft but resolute. "But be ready for the consequences. We're still married, so I expect you to go back to our house."

You met his gaze, determined not to show him how much his presence unsettled you. You weren't going to let him have the upper hand again.

"Our house, my ass..." you muttered, turning to walk away.

But then, his voice stopped you. "I left the keys in your mailbox, Y/n."

You froze mid-step, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn't just expecting you to return. He was staking a claim on your life once more, as if he'd never let you go in the first place.

Swallowing your pride, you turned back to face him. "If I ever thought of coming back, don't think for a second that I'm going to make this easy for you. The way I acted before would be a beautiful road in comparison. I'll make your life hell"

A faint smile tugged at San's lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

The way he turned with his ego on its full rise, as if he knew you'd do what he wanted, had you losing yourself when you closed the door. You wanted to burn that apartment down, you wanted to throw every heavy object at his head, you even wanted to bang your head against the wall and make all the thoughts stop. You understood the fury, but why was one side of you glad he showed up? Why the hell were you hopeful and relieved? 

You were angry at San, but even more frustrated at yourself, because there wasn't a logical explanation for your reaction. 

What the hell was going on with you? 

The drive back to your old house was a blur, your thoughts spinning as you tried to make sense of everything. You had made the decision to return, but only because you knew you couldn't escape the pull he had on you -not yet. Not completely. 

When you arrived, you hesitated before unlocking the door. The keys were still in your hand, their cold weight a reminder of everything that had happened between you two.

As you stepped inside, the first thing you noticed was the silence. The living room was too quiet, the space feeling too familiar, too... him.

And then you saw him.

San sat casually on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, a smug smile on his face. The thing that caught your attention, though, was the ring resting on the coffee table in front of him -your wedding ring. The same one you made sure to leave behind before slamming the door at the entrance and starting a new life -that you thought would last longer than just two months. 

He watched you closely, eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression as he spoke, his voice low. "Welcome home, Y/n."

You didn't say anything at first, your gaze flicking from the ring to his face. The frustration and betrayal you felt were still fresh, but it wasn't enough to drown out the undeniable truth -San knew how to get under your skin like no one else.

You walked past him without a word, picking up the ring and slipping it onto your finger, the cold metal a reminder of everything you had once shared.

"Don't think this means anything," you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. "I'm here, but I'm not yours. And I'm coming back with my conditions". 

He smirked while arching his eyebrows, inviting you to share with him the ideas you came up with the twenty four hours you were apart. 

"I'll keep my room, we aren't sharing a bed" you said first. "I want my space. I have enough with having to stay here until you get bored, I don't want to deal with your snores on top of it all". 

His chuckle echoed in the four wide walls. He could give you back your room, it wasn't like he made any changes. Actually, he didn't dare to move a single thing whenever he got in there to sit at the edge and look around, since it was the only way to feel close to you those two months you were apart. 

"We're married, but I'm living my life". 

"That means fucking that new guy?" he arched his eyebrow, not amused by your second condition. 

"That means having my own life, do and undo whatever the hell I want, leave this place whenever I please with no explanations. You want me here? Fine. But it'll be as if you had a piece of decoration". 

"I want you here at eleven every night"

You froze at his petition, sure you didn't hear him well or understand him properly. Did he just say...? 

"Go and fuck whoever you please, but at night I want you in your bed, under my roof" he calmly added. 

He couldn't control who you were going to see, and it wasn't like it was going to be something to last forever -he was convinced you'd give up on any other men you had tried to meet after him the second you spent more time together again. It'd be as if you had never left. 

He wanted to be relieved and calm, knowing that you'd be safe in his house. That was all he needed. 

"And what if I don't want to?" 

"I'm accepting your conditions, you should also accept mine" he cut you off, his glare rough as he drilled into your eyes. 

"Fine..." you sighed. "The time I'm here, though, I don't want you to speak to me unless it's necessary. And I mean life or death situation" you tried to make yourself clear by adding that new condition. 

"Now I can't speak to you?"

"You had a chance to and you didn't take it, now I don't want to hear anything, absolutely nothing, at all, from you". 

Said that, you picked up your suitcase, walking upstairs to close yourself inside your old room, surprised at how the place even smelled the exact same way it did the day you left. 

San's smile didn't fade as he leaned back on the couch, looking up at the short way you made to the first floor. "We'll see about that."

The first few days back in the house were cold and quiet -just how you wanted it. You stuck to your word, speaking to San only when absolutely necessary. If he asked a question, you answered with as few words as possible. If you crossed paths in the hall, you barely spared him a glance.

It worked... for a while.

But San wasn't the type to tolerate being ignored.

One evening, you were in the kitchen preparing dinner when you felt his presence behind you. He leaned against the counter, silently watching you as you chopped vegetables.

You ignored him, hoping he would leave.

He didn't.

The silence stretched between you like a taut wire, heavy and suffocating. Finally, San spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "Are you really planning on keeping this up forever?"

You didn't look at him. "We agreed to only necessary conversations."

"And this feels very necessary to me," he said, stepping closer. "Unless you're enjoying playing house in silence". 

Your jaw tightened. "I'm not playing anything, San. I'm trying to survive living under the same roof as you". 

His lips curved into a slow, maddening smirk. "Funny, because from where I'm standing, it seems like you're running away". 

That did it. You dropped the knife onto the cutting board with a sharp thud and turned to face him. "Running away? From what exactly?"

"From me" he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "From whatever it is you're so afraid to admit."

"You're delusional," you said, crossing your arms. "Not everything revolves around you, San."

He took another step forward, and suddenly the space between you felt far too small. "No, but you're making it pretty obvious that something about me still gets to you" his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before locking onto your eyes again. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be working so hard to avoid me". 

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to back down. "I'm not avoiding you. I'm just choosing not to engage with someone who clearly can't respect boundaries". 

San chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "Boundaries, huh?" his voice dropped an octave, dangerously low. "Tell me, Y/n... how long do you think you can keep pretending you don't feel anything when I'm this close?"

He was right in front of you now, his breath warm against your skin. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to push him away, to tell him he was wrong.

But you didn't move.

For a second, neither did he.

Then his hand brushed against your wrist, his fingers curling gently around it -not forcefully, but enough to send a jolt through your system. His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

But you couldn't.

The tension snapped, and before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn't soft or tentative -it was raw and desperate, a collision of anger and need that left you breathless. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer as the world around you faded away.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it -the heat, the frustration, the undeniable pull that had always existed between you.

But reality hit just as hard, and you pulled back, breathless and shaken.

"See?" San whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "You can lie to yourself all you want. But you can't lie to me". 

"No, that's definitely more your thing" you clapped back, making sure your back was glued to the counter, as if that would keep from making another mistake. 

"You still think I lied to you?" his eyebrows momentarily arched, before his hand landed over the counter, bending his body slightly. 

"I don't think so, I know it" you tilted your head. "Which makes me wonder what the fuck do you exactly want from me?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he aimed to take a step closer to you, his hand slipping from the counter as he approached you. 

Before he could reduce the distance to a palm, you quickly picked up the knife over the cutting board to threaten him with it, San instantly raising his hands in a mockery surrender pose.  

"You treated me like a fool once. I'm not allowing you to do it a second time" you assure him, your eyes piercing through his. 

You dropped the knife back to the counter, thinking it was going to be a better idea to just leave and have dinner somewhere else than stay in that house and stand his constant comments and silent looks. 

The moment you left San standing in the kitchen, lips swollen from the kiss you still felt burning on your skin, you knew you couldn't stay in that house any longer, at least not when you felt so weak.

One wrong word and move, and you'd be back to a place you'd regret. 

You grabbed your coat and keys, ignoring the pounding in your chest, and headed straight to Steve's apartment.

He answered the door within seconds, his brows lifting in surprise when he saw you standing there. "Y/n? What's wrong?"

You stepped inside, brushing past him. "I shouldn't have gone back to him. Moving into that house was a mistake."

Steve shut the door behind you, his expression hardening. "Did he do something?"

"No," you said quickly, though your voice wavered. "Not exactly. But... he won't let me go. He keeps trying to pull me back in, and it's suffocating."

You tried to ignore the fact that you didn't tell your boyfriend about the kiss. You could have, but for some reason you chose to hide that detail. 

Steve gave you a soft look, his hand aiming for your arm to brush his fingers against the thick fabric of your coat. "Let's get you something warm first". 

You played with the white cup in your hands, the steam from your hot tea almost reaching your nose. 

"It's clear what he's doing" he thought out loud, his head shaking while still deep in thought. "He knows you're too strong to fall for his games, so he's trying to trap you emotionally. If you really want to get him out of your life, you need to hit him where it hurts". 

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "San's entire identity is wrapped up in that company. It's what made your marriage necessary in the first place, right? He needed you to solidify his position as head of the company. So... why not disrupt that? Use the one thing that connects you both: his business". 

The idea left you breathless for a second, the audacity of it hanging in the air. It was dangerous, calculated, and exactly the kind of move San wouldn't expect.

"You want me to ruin his position?" you asked cautiously.

"Not exactly ruin it," Steve said with a sly smile. "But challenge it. You have enough influence and knowledge to shake things up. Attend board meetings, make connections with the investors, prove that you are the real power in this relationship, not him". 

Your mind raced at the possibilities. San had always thrived on control -especially in the business world. If you stepped into that world and took control of your own narrative, you wouldn't just be playing his game. You'd be rewriting the rules.

"I don't know..." you murmured, but deep down, a part of you was intrigued. 

You wanted to fight back, but you weren't sure how the consequences of your actions could affect San in the future. 

Hold on a second... Why were you even feeling sorry for him? 

"Think about it," Steve said, leaning back with a confident grin. "If San wants to play power games, give him a fight he won't see coming". 

You returned late that night, slipping back into the house like a shadow. San wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, but you felt his presence everywhere -watching, waiting.

As you climbed the stairs, your eyes drifted to the ring still sitting on the coffee table, gleaming under the soft light.

You ignored it and headed to your room, the resolve hardening in your chest. 

This was war now.

San stood at the head of the conference table, his voice calm and commanding as he laid out his latest strategy to the board. His navy suit and confident stance made it clear who was in control. Every investor in the room hung on his every word.

Until the doors to the conference room swung open, interrupting him.

All eyes turned toward you as your heels clicked against the marble floor. San's smirk grew the moment he saw you. You were as beautiful as he kept thinking throughout the conference, that aura around you worked like a magnet. His attention had to be on you whenever you were in the same room -and even if you weren't. His eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, assuming you were here for a surprise visit.

But then you didn't stop by the door.

Instead, you walked to the far side of the long table, your expression composed and businesslike, not a single glance aimed at him. The room fell into a stunned silence as you looked down on the man who was sitting at San's right, your intimidating gaze immediately making him look to his left so everyone would move one seat away so his seat would be free for you. 

Without a word, you took a seat, right next to San.

The tension in the room was palpable.

San's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he watched you lean back in your chair, your fingers calmly tapping on the table. "Y/n," he said slowly, his tone low and questioning. "What are you doing here?"

You offered him a polite, professional smile, ignoring the flicker of warning in his eyes. "I'm here for the meeting, of course". You turned to the others, your voice clear and confident. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. You all must know, but I'm Y/n, and as of this morning, I'll be joining the executive board as the company's new Strategic Advisor".

San's jaw clenched. You could see the muscles in his neck tighten, though his expression remained otherwise unreadable. He leaned slightly toward you, his voice barely made it to your ears. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

You didn't blink. "I thought it was time I got involved. You keep insisting I'm your wife and such. You wanted me back at our house, so I think it's just fair I also take part in our business. You've always said we're a team, haven't you? You should be happy". 

He straightened, eyes fixed on you, his mind running like crazy with all the thoughts in his head. "A team," he repeated, his voice dangerously calm. "Of course".

The meeting resumed, but you could feel San's eyes on you the entire time. Every word spoken, every decision discussed -it was all charged with tension. You chimed in occasionally, your remarks sharp and insightful, earning nods of approval from several board members, and casually opposing your husband's ideas or opinions.

By the end of the meeting, it was clear to everyone that you weren't just a pretty face in a designer dress. You belonged in that room, and you weren't going anywhere.

As the meeting wrapped up, the board members began to file out, offering you polite nods as they passed. San stayed seated, watching you with a carefully neutral expression. When the door finally closed behind the last executive, the silence between you became deafening.

"You've made your point," he said, his voice low and laced with something between admiration and irritation. "You had fun. Now go back home. This isn't a game".

You stood, smoothing your dress and giving him one last look. "Who said I'm playing a game, San? I'm just here to do what's best for the company". 

With that, you turned and walked toward the door, leaving him sitting there -his eyes dark, his mind already calculating his next move.

That night, you barely made it through the front door before San's voice cut through the silence.

You swore things were being way too peaceful for it to be real. You left the company later in the evening, you spent time with your boyfriend, and then you went back home before eleven like San had conditioned you. 

You didn't expect him to still be awake. 

"You've got some nerve, Y/n," he said, leaning against the doorway of the living room. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a sliver of his collarbone. His dark eyes pinned you in place, burning with a mix of anger and something else far more dangerous.

You calmly slipped off your heels, pretending not to notice the tension radiating from him. "I don't know what you're talking about". 

He pushed off the doorframe, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. "Really? Barging into my meeting, announcing your shiny new position in front of the entire board without telling me first? That wasn't just a power move, that was a declaration of war". 

You crossed your arms, holding his gaze without flinching. "I'm only doing what's best for the company. Or are you threatened by me, San?"

His eyes darkened at the challenge, his jaw tightening. He stopped just inches away from you, his presence overwhelming. "Threatened?" he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "No, love. I'm not threatened by you. But you should be careful". 

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that a warning?"

His lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it "Call it... advice". He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. "Because if you want to play games with me, you'd better be ready for the consequences."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" you shot back, refusing to back down despite how close he was.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. "No, Y/n. I know you aren't scared of shit like that". 

The air between you crackled with tension. For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a dangerous standoff. Then, without warning, San's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently -but firmly- around your wrist.

"You think you can walk into my world and play by your own rules?" he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. "Let me remind you who taught you how to play this game in the first place". 

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, all restraint vanishing in an instant. The kiss was fierce, consuming, a clash of frustration and desire that had been building for far too long. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn't.

Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring every ounce of your anger and defiance into it. It was a battle neither of you wanted to lose, a fight that left you breathless and trembling.

You found yourself pulling him closer, your hands wrapped around his neck when he pushed you against the door to corner you. 

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes burned with that familiar intensity -the one that always left you on edge.

"Tell me again," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "that you're not playing games with me."

You looked at him through hooded eyes, before you got back some strength to speak "I'm not. I'm just giving you the consequences of your actions". 

After pushing him, you managed to walk away. You were paying him back with his own decisions, you were doing exactly what he told you to do -you even started wearing the ring again- only to make him regret everything he did to you. 

Because, deep down, you weren't sure anymore.

But, as always, San changed the rules. 

It started at the office. He didn't oppose your presence after a few days. Not only did he accept you working at the company, but he made it clear to everyone else that you belonged there.

"Y/n's perspective is valuable," he said during one of the meetings, his tone calm and confident, as though the two of you hadn't nearly torn each other apart the night before. "We'll benefit from her insight". 

You blinked in surprise, not missing the way the other executives exchanged glances. San never shared control with anyone. Yet there he was, backing you up without hesitation, his demeanor warm and approachable.

You waited for him to pull some kind of stunt. To undermine you or push you into a corner. But it never came.

Instead, he stayed close -always helpful, always charming. He lingered by your office with coffee in hand, offering advice or casually checking on your progress. He praised your work during meetings, smiled at you in that disarmingly genuine way that made your stomach twist.

And he kept his distance -physically, at least. No more sudden touches. No more whispered words meant to unravel you.

But his eyes... his eyes never stopped watching you, never stopped waiting.

Every time you turned a corner, he was there. Every time you doubted your next move, he was one step ahead, guiding you with perfect timing. He was patient. Calculated.

He was making it impossible to hate him.

One late afternoon, after another meeting where San had spoken up in your favor, you lingered in the conference room, trying to process it all. The sun dipped low, casting golden light through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Something on your mind?"

You turned to find San standing in the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder, his sleeves rolled up. His voice was soft, almost casual, but there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed his intent.

"Just thinking," you said, keeping your tone neutral.

"About how well we work together?" he asked, stepping inside and leaning against the table. "Admit it, Y/n. We make a hell of a team".

You narrowed your eyes. "You're up to something".

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not this time. I meant what I said. I'm here to help you. I told you, we're partners now, we're a team. No games". 

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But trusting San was like stepping into quicksand -you never knew how far you'd sink before it was too late.

Still... he was making it harder and harder to resist.

"I'll treat you to dinner" he moved his head, motioning you to walk with him. 

But you froze. You already had plans,  you were already meeting up with Steve to have dinner. But something in you couldn't hide the fact that you wanted to spend time with San -even if you saw each other all day now, it was never enough. 

You could've said no and let Steve take you to the same restaurant you went to on Fridays, but you didn't. 

"Uh, let me send an email real quick" you lied. 

You took out your phone to let Steve know you wouldn't be able to meet him that night. It was the fourth time that week you stood him up. While the other times weren't related to your husband but work, they made you feel more regretful than that evening. 

Twenty minutes later, you found yourself seated at a small, intimate table in an intimately lit restaurant tucked away from the city's busy streets. The place had an understated elegance -brick walls, warm lighting, the scent of freshly baked bread drifting through the air.

It wasn't flashy or extravagant. It felt... cozy. Unexpectedly personal.

San leaned back in his chair, watching you as the waiter poured wine into your glass. "Relax, Y/n. This isn't a business meeting". 

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine in your glass. "Isn't it?"

"Not tonight." He rested his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. "I just want to enjoy your company. No business. No games". 

You sipped your wine, unsure whether to believe him. The man sitting across from you was far too good at blurring lines, at slipping through cracks in your armor when you least expected it.

"So," San said after a beat of silence. "Tell me. How's your first week at the company been?"

"It's been... fine," you replied cautiously.

"Just fine?" His lips curved into a playful smirk. "Come on. Be honest". 

You leaned back, crossing your arms. "Honestly? I expected you to be more of a pain in the ass". 

His laughter was low and rich, drawing the attention of a few nearby diners. "I'm full of surprises". 

"That much is true," you muttered, setting your glass down. "But I still don't trust you". 

"Good," San said, his tone soft but serious. "You shouldn't". 

That threw you off. For a second, his expression shifted -his eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something far more sincere.

"But maybe," he added, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, "you'll give me the chance to change that". 

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. San had always been a master at keeping you on edge, but tonight was different. Tonight, his words felt less like a game and more like... something real.

The waiter returned with your meals, breaking the tension. The conversation turned lighter, San recounting an embarrassing story from one of his early days at the company. His laugh was contagious, his charm impossible to ignore.

For the first time in a long while, you found yourself lowering your guard -just a little.

But as the evening went on, you couldn't shake the feeling that San was always one step ahead.

You were halfway through your meal when San leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn't quite read.

"So... Steve," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "Tell me about him."

Your fork froze mid-air. His tone was light, but the question hit you with the force of a loaded gun. You set your fork down carefully, your gaze narrowing.

"What about him?"

San tilted his head, lips curling into a slow, almost amused smile. "You've been seeing him for... what? A few months?"

"Why does that matter?" you asked, sipping your wine, trying to appear unaffected.

He shrugged. "Just curious. Seems like a nice guy. The kind of guy who probably wears beige sweaters and helps old ladies cross the street". His smile turned sharper "Safe". 

Your jaw tightened. "Yes, he is. Which is more than I can say for most people" you snapped back your attack clear. 

"Wow, calm down. It wasn't meant as an attack" San chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. "Although... safe is boring. You're not boring". 

"Not everything has to be chaos and fire, San," you shot back, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

He swirled the wine in his glass, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "No. But it's more fun, isn't it?"

You could feel the tension rising again, the air between you thick with unspoken words. He wasn't just curious -he was poking at something, testing you, trying to find a crack in the wall you'd built.

"I'm happy with Steve," you said, folding your napkin and placing it on the table. "And he's good for me. Unlike certain people who thrive on turning everything into a power game". 

His smile faded for just a second, his eyes flashing with something darker. "You think I'm playing a game with you?"

"Aren't you always?"

San leaned forward again, his voice low, dangerous, and intimate. "If I were playing, Y/n, you'd know it. But I'm not. Not this time". 

You stared at him, your heartbeat picking up pace. His words were a challenge -a direct, undeniable dare to see through his layers and figure out what he really wanted.

The waiter returned, breaking the moment as he offered dessert, but you waved him off. You needed air. You needed to get out before San could sink any deeper into your thoughts.

The cool evening air hit your skin as you stepped outside the restaurant, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You needed space -time to clear your head after that loaded conversation.

You had barely taken a few steps down the sidewalk when you heard the door swing open behind you, followed by the sound of his footsteps.

"Y/n," San called, his voice calm but commanding. 

You didn't stop.

"I'm going home," you said without turning around. "Alone". 

Because that was the only way you'd assure yourself you'd make your way to your room without letting San get in your head. 

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, easily catching up to you. "I'll drive you". 

You stopped abruptly, spinning on your heel to face him. "I don't want your company". 

San smirked, his hands sliding into his pockets as he stepped closer, his eyes gleaming under the streetlights. "I'm not asking for your permission". 

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "You can't control everything". 

His eyes darkened, his playful demeanor shifting into something far more serious. "I'm not trying to control you" he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "But I'm not letting you walk away from me like that. Not tonight". 

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood so close you could feel his warmth despite the chill in the air. His presence was overwhelming -intoxicating in a way that made you hate how easily he could unravel you. 

"I really can't stand you" you muttered, turning to walk again. But before you could take another step, his hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in place.

"Let's go home together" he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. "Please."

The word caught you off guard. San rarely asked for anything. He demanded. But the way he said it now, with that rare hint of vulnerability, left you momentarily speechless.

Against your better judgment, you nodded, letting out a resigned sigh. "Fine". 

The car ride was silent, the tension thick as San drove with one hand on the wheel, his other resting on his knee. You kept your gaze fixed on the passing city lights, refusing to acknowledge the way his presence filled the small space.

But when you reached the house, it was clear the night was far from over.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the house, the engine's low hum fading into silence. You hesitated for a moment before stepping out, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. San followed closely behind, his footsteps deliberate but hesitant -something you weren't used to from him.

He opened the front door and held it for you without a word, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. You stepped inside, your pulse quickening when you felt him right behind you, the air heavy with unspoken words.

"Y/n," he said softly, his voice raw and unfamiliar.

You froze in place, your back still to him, your hand tightening around the strap of your purse when you were able to recognize that tone in his voice. You didn't want to do this. You couldn't do this. Not now. Not after everything.

But San wasn't giving you a choice.

"I've thought about you every damn day," he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "Every night. Two months, Y/n. Do you know what it's like to feel haunted by someone who isn't even there?"

Your breath hitched, and you turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. His usual armor -the smirk, the cocky confidence- was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked... tired. Vulnerable. And painfully sincere.

"I hated it," he continued, stepping closer. "And then there's that... Steve" he practically spat the name, his jaw tightening. "You think he's good for you? He's not. He'll never know you like I do. He'll never be able to keep up with you". 

"San..." you started, but he cut you off.

"No," he said firmly. "Let me finish. I know I've made mistakes. I know I pushed you away when I should've done everything to keep you. And I know it's selfish to drag you back when you started to move on. But it drove me insane knowing someone else was filling the space I left empty" his voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "I can't lose you. Not again". 

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, every syllable unraveling the carefully constructed wall you had built over the past two months. Your throat tightened, tears threatening to rise, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to let them fall.

"Stop," you said quietly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

San's eyes flickered with confusion, but he obeyed, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"I can't hear this," you whispered, shaking your head. "Not now". 

"Why?" he asked, taking another step closer, his eyes searching for yours.

"Because..." your voice caught in your throat. 

You didn't know how to finish that sentence without exposing the feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

"Y/n," he said, softer this time, his hand reaching out as if to touch you but stopping halfway.

You took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest. "I need... I need space". 

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the weight of his confession hanging heavy between you. San nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Okay," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'll give you space". 

You turned away quickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. But even as you walked toward the stairs, his words echoed in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

The restaurant was warm and filled with life, but you felt cold, your thoughts miles away from the conversation. Steve sat across from you, his smile easy, his words familiar and comforting, yet you barely registered a word. Your mind kept drifting back -back to the house you shared with San, to the memories that clung to you like a second skin.

"Y/n?" Steve called gently, his brow furrowed as he leaned closer. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. "Yeah, sorry. Just... tired". 

But you weren't tired. You were haunted. Haunted by the way San had started chipping away at your carefully built walls without even trying.

The mornings when you'd come down for coffee, and he'd already be there, leaning casually against the counter, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, holding out a cup he'd made just the way you liked it.

"Morning," he'd say, his voice low and husky from sleep, a knowing smile tugging at his lips when your fingers brushed as you took the cup.

The way he'd linger close -always too close. Passing by you in the hall of your office, his hand grazing your lower back, his touch sending sparks up your spine. Or how his eyes would follow you in meetings at the office, dark and intense, making you forget what you were supposed to be saying.

And the nights. The nights were the worst.

"Do you always work this late?" San had asked one evening, standing in your doorway, his tie loosened, his eyes tired but warm.

"I like working late," you had replied, barely glancing up from your laptop. But you'd felt his presence, the air charged with that electric tension.

"Liar," he'd muttered under his breath with a chuckle, disappearing down the hall before you could respond.

Every little thing he did had felt deliberate -small, intimate gestures that blurred the lines you had tried so desperately to draw.

And now, sitting across from Steve, you felt the weight of those memories pressing down on you like a tidal wave. You weren't the same person who had walked out of San's life two months ago. You had been reshaped, little by little, without even realizing it.

"Y/n, we need to talk" Steve said suddenly, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind. Those words brought you back instantly "I've noticed... Y/n, I think something's changed between us".  

You looked up at him, startled. "What do you mean?"

He studied you for a long moment, his expression soft but knowing. "You seem... distracted. Distant, even. And I don't think it's just work. We barely see each other, and it's always one excuse after the other. And the little we get to see each other, you wear that fucking ring like you're actually married to him" subtly, your eyes moved down to your hand. 

He was right. The first time it happened, Steve pointed it out with a joke. But the second, the third time... he noticed something was off with the way you started  becoming more attached to that piece of jewelry. He noticed how you were distancing yourself from him, as if you never wanted to move on from the person who put it on you in the first place. 

"I..." you tried to deny it, but the words caught in your throat.

"You're in love with him," Steve said gently, his eyes sad but honest.

Your breath caught in your chest, your pulse racing.

"No, I'm not," you said quickly, too quickly. "It's complicated". 

Steve leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "No, it's not. It’s pretty simple, actually. You're still wearing his mark in every part of your life, even if you don't see it. And maybe you've convinced yourself that you've moved on, but trust me... you haven't" he sighed, his back resting on the backrest. "When we started seeing each other, I thought you'd eventually forget about him. But now that he's back, I can see it even clearer on you. You think of him the way I think of you". 

His words stung because they were true.

"I... I don't know how I feel about San. But you're right about one thing: I think about him the way I wished I thought about you" you sighed. "And I've been so selfish with you, so unfair... It shouldn't have taken me this long to realize".

Or maybe you did realize earlier, but you just clung to the idea that the stability Steve kept offering you was all you ever wanted. You tried to cover up your feelings with what you wanted. 

"I'm really sorry for putting you in this position, I'm really sorry for hurting you and making you waste your time. I shouldn't have..."

"I knew what I was doing when I first walked in" Steve smirked. "It was also my choice to stay. I just hope he can be better and make you the happiest, because it's the only thing you deserve, Y/n". 

Your heart broke when you watched him getting up and walking to you, his lips leaving a small kiss on your forehead before he started walking towards the exit. 

It was over.

The front door clicked shut behind you, the soft sound of the lock sliding into place echoing in the quiet house when you came back home. You kicked off your heels, your jaw tight and your mind a tangled mess of emotions. Your heart raced -half from the lingering tension with Steve, half from the anticipation of seeing San.

The lights in the living room were turned on, you didn't need to catch a glimpse of San sitting on the couch to know he was there, his elbows were resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked on you the second you stepped inside. He looked like he'd been waiting for you, his jaw clenched, his tie loosened around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

He was indeed waiting for you. You arrived one hour late to the time you first agreed on your conditions, and his mind was already racing with all the things you could be doing, or the things that could've happened to you. 

"Late night?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

You froze, your pulse quickening as the weight of the conversation you'd just had with Steve pressed down on you. "Don't start, San. I’m not in the mood tonight". 

He stood, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. "I'm just curious. Did your boyfriend have something interesting to say?"

You glared at him, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. "This is none of your business". 

He chuckled bitterly, his eyes darkening. "None of my business? You live in my house, Y/n. Everything about you is my business". 

"You're unbelievable," you shot back, your voice rising. "I live in your house because you wanted it that way. We're still married because you wanted it that way. You made me your business because you're fucking insane" you snapped back "Yet I'm the one who owes you explanations and details?"

San stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You do owe me an explanation, at the very least. You disappear for hours, come back with that look on your face, and I'm just supposed to act like it doesn't bother me?"

"It shouldn't!" you snapped. "This marriage is a lie, San! You don't get to be jealous or possessive. Fuck fuck's sake, you shouldn't even be worried. You said it yourself! It's meaningless, remember?"

He flinched at your words, his eyes narrowing. "You're really going to throw that in my face again?"

"You gave me no choice," you hissed. "I'm just playing by the rules you set, San". 

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you crackling with tension. His eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place: frustration, anger, and something deeper, something dangerous.

"Fine," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "If that's how you want it". 

You turned on your heel, heading for the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. But San wasn't finished.

"You can run upstairs and lock yourself in that room all you want," he called after you. "But you can't keep avoiding this forever". 

You didn't respond, your footsteps heavy as you climbed the stairs. When you reached your room, you slammed the door shut and leaned against it, your chest heaving.

The truth was, you were more terrified of not running.

Terrified that if you let him close again, you wouldn't have the strength to push him away.

Weeks passed, and the house felt colder with every passing day.

The distance between you and San had become a silent war -each of you too proud to surrender, too stubborn to bridge the gap. Every interaction was brief and transactional, your words clipped, your glances fleeting.

And yet, he was always there. Always watching. Always close enough to remind you that no matter how much space you tried to put between you, it was never enough.

Tonight was no different. 

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, applying the final touch of lipstick. The buzzing of your phone vibrated on the dresser -a message from your friends confirming the plans for the night.

You slipped into your heels, grabbed your jacket, and headed toward the door. The house was unusually quiet, but you barely noticed. You were halfway down the stairs when San's voice, low and groggy, stopped you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?"

You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe of the living room. His hair was tousled, his face pale, and he clutched the front of his shirt as if he could barely stand. His eyes met yours, and for a split second, you hesitated.

"Out," you said slowly, your brow furrowing. "Are you... okay?"

San groaned softly, staggering toward the couch and sinking onto it with a dramatic sigh. "I don't think so... I've felt off all day. I didn't even go to work". 

When you didn't see him in the office, you thought it was because he was avoiding you as hard as you were avoiding him. 

But you were wrong. 

You crossed your arms, watching him closely. He looked convincingly miserable -too miserable, almost.

"You seemed fine earlier," you said, raising a brow. 

You did catch a glimpse of him when you came back from the office. Truth was that you didn't pay enough attention to him, while he was lying on the couch, to tell whether he was really sick or just having a lazy day. 

"I've been sick all day" he muttered, rubbing his forehead as if the weight of the world rested there. "Maybe it's a fever. Or worse. Who knows? I might not even wake up tomorrow". 

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you seriously faking being sick to keep me from leaving?"

His head shot up, a spark of offense flashing in his eyes. "What? No!" he coughed -a little too perfectly timed. "I would never. I just thought... maybe you could stay. You know, in case I need... help". 

A short laugh escaped you despite yourself. "Help with what? Tucking you in?"

San's lips curved into a small smirk, the sickly act slipping for a second. "Well, since you're offering..."

You shook your head, exasperated. "For real...."

He leaned back into the couch, his expression softening as he looked up at you. "Come on, just stay. Just tonight" his voice dropped, quieter, almost vulnerable. "It's been a while since we've had dinner together. I'll make it worth your while". 

Something about the way he said it made your pulse quicken. His eyes -dark and earnest- locked onto yours, and suddenly, you were questioning whether you wanted to leave at all.

You sighed, glancing at the door one last time before slipping out of your heels and tossing your jacket onto a nearby chair. "Fine. But only because I don't want to come home and find you passed out on the floor". 

San's eyes lit up for a brief second before he coughed again -weakly, almost theatrically- and leaned back on the couch like he was barely holding on. "I knew I could count on you". 

You rolled your eyes, walking over to the other side of the room. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Takeout. Whatever you feel like," San said, already reaching for his phone. "My treat". 

It wasn't long before the smell of food filled the house. San had ordered your favorite dishes, and despite yourself, you couldn't help but appreciate the thoughtfulness. The two of you sat cross-legged on the living room floor, cartons of takeout spread between you, soft music playing in the background.

He passed you a pair of chopsticks, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. "You're too quiet tonight," he murmured, his eyes lingering on you. "What's on your mind?"

You gave a noncommittal shrug, focusing on your food. "Nothing much”. 

"Liar," he teased, nudging your leg gently with his knee. "You always get that look when something's bothering you". 

"You're imagining things," you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

He watched you for a moment, his playful smirk fading into something softer. "I missed this". 

Your breath hitched slightly, but you quickly masked it. "You mean tricking me into staying home while you fake a near-death experience?"

San chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "No. I mean... being with you like this. Talking. Eating. Just... being". 

You hated how easily his words unsettled you, how they made your carefully constructed walls tremble just a little.

"Don't get used to it," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent. "You're not that convincing, by the way". 

His brows lifted. "What do you mean?"

"You forgot you were supposed to be sick about twenty minutes ago". 

San froze, his chopsticks hovering mid-air, then laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I got caught up in the moment". 

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Uh-huh. Caught up in ordering half the menu and devouring it like you haven't eaten in a week?"

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I haven't eaten in a whole day... almost. I needed to be convincing". 

"You keep proving how crazy you are" you said dryly, but you couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.

As the evening stretched on, the atmosphere grew warmer, more intimate. You leaned back on the couch, full and content, while San sat beside you, his arm resting on the back cushion, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

He didn't say much after that, just watched you in quiet contemplation, his gaze unreadable but steady, like he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

And for once, you didn't pull away.

"After all these months... I still don't know why you agreed to marry me" he said out of the blue, catching you off guard. "You're old enough to refuse. What could've your parents done to you? Block your cards?"

Your feet hesitated over the edge of the coffee table, while those memories came back after being left to the deepest area in your brain. 

"I don't know. And I didn't want to risk learning it" you mumbled. "Sometimes I think they adopted me to trade me for something better" you scoffed, saying those thoughts out loud for the first time. "You can say all my life since I moved with them was about that. I was never a daughter, but an object to exchange. It's okay though" you sighed "I learned to live like that". 

San stared at you for a few seconds in silence, drinking in every expression, every small gesture that gave out more of your feelings. 

"I never thought of you that way" he admitted. "Before we married, I was attracted to you. Really attracted, I mean... You have no idea the amount of times that..."

"San, stop" you chuckled, attempting to hide your face behind your palms. 

"What I mean is that our marriage just helped fasten things. Then I started to know you more after we moved in together, and I swear I've never been more lost with someone else before. Every little thing, even things I thought I already knew, made me feel like I was rewriting you all over again. I think... I started falling for you much earlier than I should've. And God, it felt so fucking good".

You could just stare at him as he spoke, trying to find a hint on how he was playing you, but there was nothing at all. 

"But then... then you overheard me talking to Wooyoung... I knew the second I saw your face that I'd ruined everything. I hated myself for it. Every damn day after you left, I cursed myself for not stopping you". 

Your breath caught in your throat. The sincerity in his voice, the cracks in his carefully guarded composure... It was too much. Too real.

"I just want you to know  that I didn't say those things to hurt you," San began, his jaw tightening. "I didn't feel them. I could never feel them. I said them because I thought I was protecting you". 

"Protecting me?" you blinked, confusion flickering across your face.

"My father started getting suspicious of us when I kept dodging the topic every time he brought up the divorce. And it got worse when I suggested you to become part of the company, because you're brilliant and you have amazing ideas, and you'd add so much by doing what you love... And you proved it these weeks. But my father thought that maybe I was getting too invested in you, and having us involved together in something else would only make it harder for us to part ways. I didn't want you to become a target, I didn't want you in between the crossfire". 

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your composure. "So your solution was to tell Wooyoung that I meant nothing to you?"

"I panicked. Wooyoung and his mother have a tight connection with my father, so maybe if I reassured him that everything was as always..." San admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. "I thought if I made it sound like it was all just business, like I didn't care... it would all stop. My father would leave you alone, and we'd be able to keep going for a little longer until we got strong enough. No one would question your success, and with just a little more time we would've gotten strong enough to get through everything. I didn't realize how wrong I was until it was too late". 

He ran a hand down his face, his frustration evident. "It backfired in the worst way. You heard it, and it broke us. I would've taken it back in a heartbeat if I could". 

"What changed now? Because I doubt your father was happy with the idea of having me back". 

"It's worse to have you away, and share you with someone else, than going through a war against my father to keep you in my life" he whispered. "When I signed those papers... I was so angry at you, but I was angrier at me, because I thought I wasn't going to be able to protect you. And then you signed them as well, and I couldn't find the courage to file them and present them in court. It was the only thing that kept us together". 

You leaned back against the couch, folding your arms tightly across your chest, trying to put some distance between yourself and the raw vulnerability in San's eyes. 

"The first week, I tried to get you out of my head and convince myself that it was for the better. I kept postponing presenting the files until I realized I didn't want to". 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the way San's gaze darkened made you stop short. He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if weighing what to say next, before finally leaning closer -too close.

"I gave you space, I let you live your life" he said, his voice low, almost dangerously calm. "But you didn't really think I'd let you go, didn't you?"

Your pulse quickened, unease spreading through your chest. "What are you talking about?"

San tilted his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I never stopped keeping tabs on you. Not once. Those months we were apart? I knew exactly where you were, what you were doing... and who you were with". 

Your heart stopped. "You... what?"

San shook his head, his expression almost regretful. "I wanted to let you move on at first... but the second I saw him holding your hand, touching you like you were his, I couldn't stand it. So I made sure he wouldn't last long in your life." he paused, leaning closer. "Did you ever wonder why Steve's company suddenly lost that big contract? Why he became distant, out of nowhere?"

Your stomach churned. You had wondered. You remember the big turn in Steve's personality after that, but you two managed to get him back on the right road.

"You..." your voice shook with rage. "You almost ruined his career just to... what? Keep me single?"

San's jaw tightened. "To bring you back where you belong" his voice softened, his eyes blazing with something raw and possessive. "With me" he sighed, slightly throwing his head back "When you didn't break up after that, I knew I needed to do something else. And that was why I showed up looking for you and bringing you back". 

Your breath caught in your throat, torn between fury and disbelief. "You're sick in the head". 

"Maybe," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you can't deny that part of you wanted to come back. Even now, you're still here. You're still mine."

Your hands clenched into fists as his words settled like poison in your veins. "Mine." That one word snapped something inside you, sending you spiraling between anger and something far more dangerous.

Shit... why was your body feeling lighter after his confession? Why were you so eager for his lips? Why did his twisted actions work to make your heart beat faster for him? 

"I know you're feeling the same way even if you're with that prick" he whispered, his fingers softly tracing your jaw. 

He shifted closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours, rubbing your skin over your tights. He looked into your eyes, and you could feel a spark ignite between you. "Y/n, love," he said softly, "I've been an idiot. I'm sorry."

San leaned in, his lips gently brushing against yours, instantly getting them to part as if he had thrown a spell on you. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, getting lost in the rush when he finally linked your lips together. It was slow, gentle, as if he was afraid you'd move away. But slowly, your lips sucked on his, your lower lip molding in between them, the kiss deepening as your tongues explored each other's mouths, the mere contact making the two of you moan. San's hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, making sure there wouldn't be a single inch between your bodies.

After the distance between you, he couldn't tolerate any physical space. 

"You taste so good," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "I've missed this". 

You moaned softly, your lips still brushing his, your body responding to his touch. "I've missed you too," you finally admitted, your voice breathless.

When you kissed again, you could feel the air shifting, the tension turned into something heavier, something that almost made you eat the other alive. 

San's hand moved up to cup your breast, his fingers gently squeezing while his thumb rubbed against your nipple through the fabric of your dress. Shocked by pleasure, you stopped the kiss to bite his lower lip for a few seconds, the time it took you to control your own moan. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice a low growl, when you finally released his lip. 

"Yes," you whispered, your voice filled with need. "I want you". 

San's hand moved to the hem of your dress, slowly lifting it up, his warm palm covering every inch of skin he went through as he moved it up. And every centimeter of skin that was exposed made you eager for more. You raised your arms when he pulled the elastic fabric up enough, allowing him to remove it completely. San leaned down, his lips capturing one of your nipples through the lace of your bra, having your back arching and your body surrendering to him as you rested against the backrest of the couch. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair to make sure he wouldn't move away.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. "I could touch you all day". 

Your bra fell away, and San's hands replaced the lace, cupping your bare breasts with an eroticism that had your breath catching in your throat. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands explored your body, he wanted to make it clear you were his. Not to you, but to his own self. Your hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly.

"I want to feel you," you whispered, your fingers tracing the muscles of his chest.

San moved away shortly,  just enough to allow you to remove his shirt completely. He unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. Your eyes widened as you saw his hardened bulge, straining against his briefs.

"You're already like this?" she chuckled, looking up to his eyes.

San smirked, hooking his thumbs into his briefs and pushing them down. "You keep underestimating the power you have over me, love. My whole body reacts for you". 

Your hands moved to your tights, pushing them down along with your panties. San kneeled on the couch, his hands moving to your thighs, taking you by surprise when he leaned in, his tongue flicking against your clit.

You gasped, your body bucking against his touch. "S... San," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair.

His tongue continued to explore you, his fingers joining in, sliding in and out of her wetness with a slow motion that had you sinking deeper on the couch. Your moans filled the room, your body writhing against his touch.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with desire, before licking again.

As minutes passed, you could feel your body tensing, your high crashing over you with such intensity that you saw white for a mini second. San's tongue continued to move, drawing out your pleasure, not wanting to move away from you. Your muscles relaxed, although not entirely, because you were back at that state of arousal that had you edging for more, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

San stood up, his hands cupping your face to stop you before your mouth could reach his length. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with all the filthy things you wanted to happen. 

You wanted him. 

"I have to be inside you first" he bent over to kiss you. "It's the only right way to do it". 

His hands hooked below your arms to pull you up, to quickly move around your waist and your nape to link your lips once more. His touch felt as if he wanted you to become one: the way he kept sticking your body close to his, the way his hand on your hair tangled around the locks to pull you deeper for the kiss, the way his nails scratched your back... It was more than just love.

You'd have walked blindly towards your room if you hadn't stumbled and fell over the stairs. Neither of you knew whether it was the need or hunger, but neither of you got up. San made sure to place you so you'd be sitting on the step while your back and head resting on the others, with his body barely making it on the edge to fit in between your legs. 

He positioned himself at your entrance, his dick sliding in slowly. You moaned, your body adjusting to his size after so long. San began to move, his hips thrusting against yours slowly at first, trying to memorize the feeling, the way your walls wrapped around him so good that he almost forgot how to breathe.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice filled with pleasure.

Your hands moved to his back, your nails digging into his skin while your legs wrapped higher on his waist. "San, please," you moaned, your body arching against his.

You didn't know to specify what you wanted, he already knew. San's thrusts became more forceful, his body slamming against yours. You didn't even care how the edge of the step kept hitting against your back, that pain became part of the pleasure at some point. Your moans filled the hall, your body responding to his touch in a way it hadn't before. "Yes" you moaned, your body tensing as another wave of pleasure approached. "San" your voice cracked. 

San's thrusts became erratic, his body tensing as he tried to control his own release from coming. But it was so hard, he ended up spilling himself inside you, his hips sloppily moving while his dick twitched wrapped around your walls, his lips seeking for yours to let you know he wasn't done. 

Somehow, you made it to his room, the bed looked like a battlefield from all the turns and shifts, the sheets stained with sweat and something else. 

Your body collapsed a third time over the mattress, your moan prolonging a bit longer while you tried to catch your breath. It was like a reward for getting him hard again when you sucked him off through his release during the second round. 

Your ears beeped, your sight was blurry, but the only thing your over sensitive body could feel was the way his body collapsed on top of you, his body shuddering with his orgasm.

You laid there for a moment, your bodies entwined, his face hiding in the curve of your neck while he whispered the most devoted words to your ear. He rolled off of you, just to pull you close. You snuggled against him, your body still humming with pleasure, ignoring the rational part of your brain that was asking you to leave.

You'd have plenty of chances to act that way. During that night, you just wanted to be with him. 

"I love you, Y/n," he whispered. "Even if you hate me for what I did, even if your heart belongs to someone else. I fucking love you, Y/n. And I doubt I'll ever be able to feel the same way about someone else". 

The sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred awake, the weight of last night pressing down on your chest as memories flashed through your mind: San's confession, the tension, and how everything had unraveled after, how you tried to ignore it as he hugged you closer to help you fall asleep. 

For a second, you hoped it had been a dream, but the faint hum of activity outside your bedroom told you otherwise. San was already awake.

You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up. The silence in the house was oppressive, a sharp contrast to the heated exchange from hours before. After throwing on something casual, you padded barefoot into the kitchen, where you found him leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Morning," he said, his voice low, almost cautious.

You nodded, walking past him to pour yourself a cup of coffee. The air between you felt suffocating, thick with words that had already been said, and some others that were left unspoken.

"Did you sleep well?" San asked, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him briefly. "Fine". 

He took a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving yours. "About last night..."

"Let's not," you cut him off, your tone firmer than you intended. "I think we've said enough". 

His jaw clenched, but he nodded, stepping aside as you moved toward the fridge. You grabbed some fruit, peeling it in silence, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

"Are you really going to pretend it didn't happen?" he finally asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "What I said, what we shared... it wasn't nothing". 

You set the fruit down with a soft thud, turning to face him. "I'm not pretending it didn't happen. I just don't know what you expect me to do with it". 

"I expect you to stop running," he said, taking a step closer. "To stop hiding behind your walls every time things get complicated. Fuck, I thought we were getting somewhere". 

"And I expect you to stop playing with my life," you shot back. "You've been controlling everything since the beginning, how am I supposed to trust this isn't just another game to you?"

He looked genuinely hurt for a moment, his expression softening. "It's not a game," he said quietly. "It's never been a game. You're the only thing that's ever felt real in all of this". 

His words made your heart twist painfully, but you pushed it aside, unwilling to let him see how deeply they affected you. "I need time," you said again, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just flip a switch and forget everything that happened”. 

San's shoulders sagged slightly, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I get it," he said after a pause. "Take all the time you need. But I'm not going anywhere". 

You stared at him for a long moment before turning away, grabbing your coffee and heading back to your room.

You thought that would be the end of the conversation, at least for now. But San had never been one to back down so easily, and deep down, you knew this was far from over.

Later that evening, the house was unusually quiet. You sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the television, not even registering the images flashing across the screen. The weight of everything that had happened lingered heavily between you and San, who sat a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you rather than the show.

"Y/n," San said softly, breaking the silence. His tone was different -calm, almost resigned. "We need to talk". 

You turned to face him, your heart tightening at the serious look in his eyes. "About what?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. "I've been thinking... maybe I've been holding on too tightly". 

Your breath hitched slightly, but you kept your expression neutral. "What do you mean?"

San looked at you with a mix of sadness and determination. "I've forced you to stay. Dragged you back into my life without giving you much of a choice. I thought it was what I needed to keep you close, but... I can see how much it's been tearing you apart". 

You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop you. "Let me finish," he said gently. "If you want to go, I won't stop you this time. No tricks, no conditions. I'll set you free" his voice caught slightly on the last word. "I just want you to be happy, even if that means it's not with me". 

The air seemed to leave the room all at once. His words, so final, hit you harder than you expected. For months, you had wanted exactly this -a clean break, a way out. But now that he was offering it, your chest tightened painfully.

"You're... serious?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he said quietly, his eyes searching for yours. "I'm tired of forcing you to stay in a place you don't want to be. I love you too much to keep you trapped here". 

Your throat constricted to the raw emotion in his voice. His confession hung in the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe. You wanted to say something -anything- but the words wouldn't come.

For the first time, it felt like the walls you had built around yourself were beginning to crumble, piece by piece. And it scared you more than anything.

San smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll leave you alone tonight. You can think about it. Just... let me know what you decide". 

He stood slowly, his steps heavy as he walked toward the hallway. You watched him disappear around the corner, your chest tightening more with every step he took.

Alone in the silence, you realized that maybe, just maybe, the thing you were most afraid of wasn't staying with San -it was losing him entirely. You fell for him too long ago, you refused to see it even when Steve threw it at your face, and now you were scared of the aftermath of building all those walls around you. 

The tension had been eating you alive for days. Each passing hour only made it worse. San had given you space -too much space- and the longer you waited, the more you hated it. You had tried to convince yourself that you needed time, but deep down, you knew the truth. You didn't want time. You didn't want to be free.

You wanted to be with him.

The realization hit you like a freight train as you found yourself pacing outside his company's headquarters. This was reckless -completely irrational- but you didn't care.

With your heart in your throat, you pushed through the glass doors of the building, ignoring the curious glances from employees as you made your way to the top floor. The elevator ride felt endless, every second ticking by with the weight of everything unsaid between you.

When the doors opened, you strode into his office like a storm. His secretary tried to stop you, stammering something about an important meeting, but you barely heard her. Nothing mattered except getting to San.

He was in the middle of a conversation with a group of executives when you burst through the door. His head snapped up, eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the room fell into stunned silence.

"Y/n?" his voice was calm, but the confusion and flicker of hope in his eyes betrayed him.

You didn't respond -not with words, at least. You crossed the room in long, determined strides, your pulse racing. The executives glanced at each other, murmuring awkwardly, but you didn't care.

You stopped right in front of him, your gaze locking onto his, while your hands were holding the divorce papers he kept in his office. You ripped the papers, throwing them over his desk. Then, without a second thought, you grabbed the front of his suit jacket and pulled him down into a kiss.

It wasn't gentle or hesitant. It was fierce and all-consuming, filled with every emotion you'd been holding back for months -anger, longing, love. San froze for half a second before his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

The room erupted in gasps, but the world faded away. There was only him -his warmth, his scent, the way his lips molded perfectly to yours.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, San's eyes searched yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I don't want a divorce," you said, your voice trembling but determined. "I don't want to leave. I want to be with you, San. I want to love you, I want the freaky sex and the cozy nights in, the boring days and the full family pack. I want you". 

A slow, almost disbelieving smile spread across his face. His grip on your waist tightened slightly. "Say it again," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart.

"I want you," you repeated, tears welling in your eyes. "I love you". 

San pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that". 

The executives were still awkwardly lingering nearby, but San didn't seem to care anymore. He leaned down to kiss you again -softer this time, filled with the promise of everything yet to come.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Let's go home." When he turned to the executives, all of them were dedicating him a confused look "We'll retake this tomorrow morning. As you can see, my wife needs me". 

San intertwined his fingers with yours, leading you out of the office without a second glance at the stunned executives. His grip was firm, almost desperate, like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go.

Neither of you said a word on the elevator ride down, tension crackling between you like a live wire. His thumb traced absent circles on the back of your hand, a gesture that felt far too intimate for someone who had just promised to set you free days earlier.

Once you stepped outside, the cool evening breeze hit you, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside you. San's black car was already waiting at the curb. He opened the door for you, his eyes dark and unreadable, and you slid inside without hesitation.

The ride home was thick with silence, but not the cold kind you'd endured for weeks. This one was heavier -charged with everything still left unsaid. Every glance he stole at you from the driver's seat only made your pulse quicken, while his smirk grew when he felt the muscles on your thigh tensing under his touch as he reached for it. 

When you arrived back at the house, San barely waited for the door to close before pulling you into him. His lips found yours again, urgent and demanding, as he backed you against the wall in the entryway.

"I meant what I said," you whispered between kisses, your fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer. "I'm not leaving". 

San rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "Good," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "Because I'm never letting you go again". 

His hands moved to cup your face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "Do you know how many times I've imagined you coming back to me like this?" he whispered, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "How many times I regretted pushing you away?"

"Then don't push me away this time," you said softly, your own voice trembling.

A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face -a crack in his carefully built armor. "I won't," he promised. "Not ever again". 

He kissed you once more -slow and deliberate, savoring every second as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you all over again. And this time, it wasn't just a kiss filled with heat and passion. It was filled with something deeper -something neither of you dared put into words just yet.

"Come with me," San said, his voice low and inviting. His fingers laced with yours again as he led you upstairs, his steps steady but purposeful.

This time, there were no barriers between you. No distance. No hesitation.

You were back home. 

Months had passed, and spring wrapped the city in soft sunlight and blooming flowers, a perfect backdrop for what was meant to be a "first-anniversary celebration" in everyone else's eyes. But to you and San, this was more than a party. This was your real wedding -a chance to do things right. No forced arrangements, no hidden agendas, no resentment. Just the two of you, ready to start again.

The preparations had consumed you for weeks, but for once, you didn't mind. Every decision felt personal now -every detail a piece of who you had become together. The venue was an intimate garden, bathed in warm light and adorned with white roses, soft candles flickering on every table. Guests mingled, clueless to the significance of the ceremony.

You stood in front of the mirror in the bridal suite, your heart racing as you smoothed down the lace bodice of your gown. This time, there was no hesitation, no dread weighing down your steps.

A knock at the door broke your thoughts.

"Come in," you called softly.

The door opened, and San stood there, already dressed in his tailored black suit, looking devastatingly handsome. His tie hung loose around his neck, as though he'd been too restless to finish getting ready.

"You're not supposed to see me before the ceremony," you teased, smiling despite the fluttering in your chest.

"I know," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes softened as he looked at you. "But I couldn't wait. I needed to see you". 

He walked toward you, stopping just short of touching you. His eyes roamed over your face, his expression shifting from admiration to something deeper.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "But more than that... you're mine". 

You felt your throat tighten at the sincerity in his voice. "San..."

"I know this is just an anniversary party for everyone else, but for me... this is it. This is our real beginning," he said, his voice low and earnest. "No pretenses, no games. Just us. I love you, Y/n. More than anything". 

Your breath hitched at the words -so simple, yet so powerful. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"I love you too," you said softly. "And I can't wait to marry you. For real this time". 

A rare, boyish smile spread across his face. "Then let's go out there and do it right". 

As you walked down the aisle moments later, everything felt different from that day months ago. This time, his eyes didn't carry worry or uncertainty. They were filled with warmth and love, unwavering as they locked on you.

And this time, when you reached him at the end of the aisle, it felt like the happiest day of your life.

The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air, blending with the scent of fresh roses as you stood across from San. His hand was steady in yours, his eyes never once leaving your face. The officiant spoke gently, inviting you to share your vows.

San had already said his -a tender, heartfelt confession of love and promises, full of words you never imagined hearing from him when your marriage first began. You barely managed to hold it together. But now, it was your turn.

Your throat felt tight, and for a moment, your eyes flicked to the guests seated around you. Then back to San. Only him.

You took a deep breath, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions flooding your chest.

"I've thought a lot about this moment," you began, your eyes locking on his, "what I'd say if I ever got the chance to do this right. The truth is... I didn't believe this would make me so happy when this all started. I didn't believe we'd make it. We were too different. Too stubborn. Too much like enemies who refused to surrender". 

San's lips curled into a faint smile, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly, encouraging you to continue.

"And yet," you said, your voice softening, "somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you became the person I didn't want to live without, you showed me a love and support I haven't ever seen in anyone else. I tried to fight it, I really did. But every time you stood by me -every time you pushed me to be stronger, even when I hated you for it- you made me realize something: I wasn't scared of you. I was scared of how much I needed you". 

The air felt thicker, the world narrowing until it was just the two of you. San's eyes glistened, though he said nothing, waiting for you to finish.

"I love you," you confessed, your voice trembling now. "I love your strength, your loyalty, and your ridiculous determination to win every argument. I love how you see through me, even when I try to hide. I love how, no matter how hard I push, you always pull me back. So today, I'm choosing you again. Not because I have to. Not because of expectations. But because I want to. Every day, for the rest of my life... I want you, San. And I promise to always fight for us -just like you've always fought for me". 

The guests seemed to vanish in the background, replaced by a heavy, electric silence. San's thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes filled with something raw and overwhelming. He leaned in slightly, his voice barely audible.

"You've just ruined me," he whispered with a soft, breathless laugh.

You cleaned each other's tears while smiling, your touch feeling as raw and sensitive as never before.

The officiant, or more like someone you hired to play it for that party, smiled knowingly. "I think it's time to seal these vows with a kiss."

San didn't hesitate. His hand cupped your cheek tighter, drawing you in for a slow, tender kiss -one filled with promises and beginnings, a far cry from the fiery, desperate kisses you had shared before. This one was different.

When you pulled back, breathless and dazed, the crowd erupted in cheers. But San only had eyes for you. And you only had eyes for him. 

Taglist: @brown88, @youcanstayalways

[violetasteracademic]

Summary:

I was not always this way. I have memories of a time before this darkness was pooled into me. When I spilled the language of creation, not in the service of good or evil, but simply because a world needs nothing but to be made. Flowers need nothing but to bloom. People need nothing but to breathe. Water needs nothing but to flow. Those memories are hazy now. For so many years, I have been fighting the inky black corruption poured into my being. I have since been broken, divided, silenced and reborn. But once I touched her, I felt it. A vision of who I once was, and I knew that she was to be my salvation. Slayer of kings. Protector of thieves. Bringer of life. My Elain.

In other words: The corrupted Cauldron loses it's battle for control when it spies the lovely fawn being touched by the shadowsinger.

Warnings: Dark fic, dark elriel, toxic cauldron, mind control, noncon/dubcon, psychological abuse, torture, kidnapping, explicit sexual content

Thank you to @yourstarsmyscars for looking this over and everyone who supported this idea (some of you may remember it as my Elriel x Cauldron swimfan fic idea from well over a year ago!) and everyone who thinks AI should burn in hell.

Read the fic here.

Preview below the cut:

I was only a tool. A Cauldron forged at the hands of the Mother herself, and from me flowed new worlds. 

But in my corruption and distress, the Mother abandoned me. She left me in this broken world, and moved on, trusting the threads of her fate would hold strong despite all that had been done to me. 

She could have come back for me. She could have fixed me. But she didn’t. She left me to fend for myself, to push and push against the madness, to hold onto myself as my magic was twisted by false gods.

Anger.

I was so angry. 

I would not be abandoned again.

Elain Archeron would be mine.

I pool the leaking oil back inside me, and with my considerable power, I create something new. 

A spell. One I know well, as I wrote it from the language that spills from my body. I had watched a dragon, the right hand of a god, contain herself into the body of a High Fae.

There would be sacrifice. Forcing the vast endlessness of myself would limit some of my power. But it would be worth it. For Elain, it would be worth it.

Bones build within me, locking into place, and around it stretches muscle and skin.

I don’t want to look exactly like Azriel, but if that is what she desires, I should like to give her just enough to be pleased when she beholds me.

Hazel eyes. A tall, broad, and muscular build. A sharp, strong jaw and lips that curve in a way I pray to whatever gods are greater than me that she will find it tempting. I can only hope that she will find shorter, perfectly coiffed silvery blonde hair to be pleasing. I believe it will compliment the golden brown of hers well.

I bind the spell onto my skin in an undetectable display of tattoos, much like the runes and markings the Illiryan males carve into their skin. A pleasant shiver passes through me at the thought of her running her fingers over them.

Love. This is what motivates me.

There are other emotions that live within me now, of a darker nature. Possession. Fury.

Violence. 

But perhaps love is its own form of violence.

Bringing some unhinged vibes to @elriel-month because why not? We're all mad here.

[jailforwriter]

Let's get into...

Look, at the end of the day, writing is word choice. You're choosing which words to put in what order to make other people feel Some Type Of Way about the result. But there are 4 bits of advice perennially swirling about the bowels of writing forums that, misapplied, might make you shit the metaphorical bed of optimal communication, and I very much don't want that for you. I'm staunchly pro-avoiding the literary runs, in fact. So let's get into how.

On the chopping block today is my nemesis:

"Cut all adverbs"

I'm not going to pretend that I don't know why this advice exists. All two reasons it exists, even. Let's break them down:

Too many adverbs: we're all guilty of inundating sentences with adverbs. There are many moving components to scenes, and there's often a desire to express every last one of them. It's not enough to say that the ball rolled down the empty street; the reader simply must know that the ball crept exceedingly slowly, cautiously inching downwardly and toward the eerily empty street. But see, that's clunky. It doesn't flow well, doesn't add anything that couldn't have been expressed more concisely through better wording, and, most importantly, it insults the reader's imagination. By overexplaining, you're taking away their (admittedly limited, but crucial!) agency to picture things themselves. Womp womp.

Redundant adverbs: pretentious people have invented far too many words over the years for anyone to be out here saying "ran quickly". Running is inherently quick, my guy. Otherwise, we'd be saying walking or jogging or promenading (yes, really). This is the moment to break out the thesaurus and realize that sprinted, raced, and dashed all say what you wanted them to say and bring an evocative, nuanced vibe to the sentence. And nuance is tasty. Nuance is the sauce that the quirked up white boy (the sentence) was goated with. So we're better off just saying "ran" and saving that adverb for when it's actually trying to communicate complexities, which we'll expound on once we get into why adverbs are hot, actually.

NOTE: this crops up particularly often in dialogue. "Said angrily" is a dialogue tag that may seem inoffensive — until you remember that snapped exists, and furthermore, so does slamming the door in their face.

So then when/where in the annoyingly nondescript hell should I use adverbs?

Fundamentally, when they add meaning to stuff. To elaborate:

Substance: a sad smile is different from a regular smile, and should be described as such. If you just say "they smiled", people will assume it's a "normal" (i.e. happy) smile and call it day. If someone almost smiles, it's also telling us something different than if we'd said that they didn't smile at all; now we can't tell that they found the joke funny but chose not to smile, and the interaction loses substance. (Moreover, waiting and waiting patiently aren't the same thing, as I'm sure your mom pointed out when she still told you off because you "gave her attitude" by breathing too hard while you waited for her to press play on the VCR.)

Pacing: someone shaking their head slowly is different from them shaking their head at regular, normal human speeds. The latter is simple negation, whereas the former has an element of emotional nuance, of why the hell did they do that that way? Was it anger or regret? Denial, maybe? No idea! But now the reader gets to ponder about it, and that's where interest is born, methinks.

Tone: there aren't too many ways to interpret someone saying "I hate you". It's a pretty straightforward phrase, for the most part, deployed with devastating expertise by schoolchildren whose parents won't give into capitalistic fads and buy them a Stanley cup. But if I were to say "I hate you" softly, then ah. Things change. We have contrasting emotions now. Depth. Is it really an "I love you" in disguise? Am I just mad that you're making me order at the counter when you know I get, like, weird when I have to ask them for no pickles? Perchance. The takeaway here is that the adverb made it so that you can't take the sentence at face-value, and that, unlike pickles, is very satisfying.

The other 3 horsemen of the misconstrued writing advice apocalypse (word choice edition) will be coming soon, so please keep an eye out for seals breaking on ominous scrolls. Happy writing!

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[juliasmesmerized]

Conversations with You

pairings: Josh Washington x F!Reader, Chris Hartley x Ashley Brown (Until Dawn) type: fluff, too deep into the friendship, mutual pining, subtle flirting vibes intended: nervous - The Neighbourhood for the best experience: read part one of this dribble and use word replacer II as y/n will be used. (i can also make a you / y/n-less version, but i just prefer seeing my name for DR purposes) word count: 3091 part 1 | part 2 | part 3

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say." Josh smiled at her comment. He knew she believed in him. She definitely would believe in everybody in the group when it comes to things they're good at.

She laughed back as the match began. Their hands are all on the keyboard controlling their respective characters. y/n's specific character had her focus on one of her teammates, whoever is most probable to benefit from her presence. to boost their damage and keep their damage consistent. The other support would focus on the rest of the team, mostly Chris, to keep them alive. The other damage dealer creates an ice wall and a one way beam of ice, which means the soldier Josh picked would be the best to support.

He chuckled when they saw the second damage dealer being incompatible with y/n's choice. "Guess you're now truly stuck with me, ms. Support."

She smiled to herself at the fact she'd be with him, but she decided to tease. "I hate it."

"Sure you do." Josh focused on the incoming enemies as he bantered with y/n.

The battlefield was located in Germany. Chris's character was in the front pushing the enemies back under a bridge between two buildings, and Josh was on top while y/n hid behind the wall in order to stay alive; switching between the damage boost beam, being blue, and the yellow healing beam. Chris is the type of guy who shuts up to focus, and he was focusing as hell with the entire team in front of him. Josh and y/n had it quite literally easy.

Still having the blue beam stuck to Josh while he decided to relocate to be behind Chris, y/n sighed. "I kind of regret my choice of character now."

"Oh, why?" There was a little inkling of concern in his voice, but it wasn't a long match to begin with if they don't allow the enemy team to secure the area.

She expressed her feelings begrudgingly. "This is my first game with you both and I have nothing to show for it as this support is literally brainless to play, until you have the entire enemy team running to kill you. Then it's a wild goose chase to fly to your teammates and safety." y/n only remembered her side goal of beating the crap out of these two after joining it.

Josh assured her, he was glad it wasn't anything actually serious, or he wouldn't have known what to do. "It doesn't matter if this is our first game together, we'll have plenty more for sure. You do help the team a lot, regardless of actual kills."

y/n proclaimed in excitement. "Great! Then I'll beat your highest score and get more kills." Almost ready to flex her non-existent muscles, until she realized she was only faced by a screen.

"Can't wait to see-" Josh was cut off.

Chris screeched on the other side. "JOSH!" The second damage dealer and support died and there was only Josh, Chris, and y/n on the map currently. "STOP FLIRTING AND HELP ME! WHERE ARE YOU GUYS? THERE ARE TWO SUPPORTS AND ONE DPS AFTER ME!"

y/n flew to Chris as soon as she could get him in her field vision and Josh used the running ability to get to him faster. "You're a big guy, Chris, you can handle them. We're coming."

She spoke up as soon as the beam connected. "I'll try to heal you up, bring your shield up. When you got enough health, I'll damage boost you to help with attacking against them." Chris obeyed and slowly walked back as his shield was up.

Chris weighed his options and shared his opinion on the current situation. "We gotta wait till the rest of the team comes back. They're also going to regroup."

Josh decided to weigh himself in to allow them information they may have not caught. "y/n, after healing him, come with me. I have my ultimate."

"That's great! We'll just have to wait for our team then so I could be taken care of while y/n's away." Chris cheered, feeling the tide could be pushed against the enemy team.

y/n decided to demonstrate the difference between them newbies and her knowing her way around the map. "Do you know where we could go to catch them off guard?"

Josh took a second to think as he was attacking the enemy team to push them back from Chris as he was being healed. "I was thinking atop the area Chris was?" She linked her beam to Josh signalling that it's time for them to go.

She walked ahead to a secret passage way into a building that led them behind the enemy team. "No, we could actually get behind the enemy team and use Chris and the rest of the team as a distraction."

"Smart thinking, doctor." Josh referenced her character choice in complimenting her.

Josh was getting ready by hiding behind a building along side y/n's character. She still spoke up to prove her superiority. "Mhmm. You can finally see the difference between you and I. I can think of things you wouldn't imagine!"

"Hold your horses, we'll see when you play DPS or tank." Josh pressed the key to use his ultimate, and walked into the battlefield behind the enemy team as she instructed. A full team kill thanks to y/n's boosting and Chris already damaging the entire team.

"Sure." It was long strung from y/n. She took a breath. "As if that wasn't from my critical thinking." y/n sarcastically kept a monotone voice.

Josh began to tease her, but he decided to go a little farther than what he usually would. "I couldn't have done it without you! I will kiss and worship the ground you walk on, you mastermind! What could I do without you, my dear princess?"

She decided to answer without thinking. "Hardy har. That wouldn't even be enough after I scored you the play of the game, lowly peasant." If she let his words sink in, she'd go against his earlier comment and she wanted to be special in his eyes. If staying strong during his playful flirting and jokes means that, then so be it.

Behind the screen, the facade, she was on the brink of shutting the game off. The winning message showed on all three of their screens. Chris began to chuckle and went to message Josh after that comment. Y/n's cheeks flushed and she grabbed her phone straight away.

y/n: AAAAAAASSSSHHHHHLLLLEEEEYYYYYY Ashley: WHAT? y/n: HE CALLED ME PRINCESS? Ashley: HUUUUH? IM GONNA TALK TO CHRIS RIGHT NOW

"Oh, hold on guys." Chris absentmindedly spoke as he closed his microphone. y/n absolutely knew what that would be about.

"Do we wait for him or let the queue going?" Josh almost sounding like he'd peek into her door to ask this.

She thought about about it as on one hand, he could come back super quickly and we'd have found a match, but on the other he could take long and he'd have to reap the consequences of being away. "That's a hard question, I guess the game has been going harder on people who get away from the keyboard in a match. Let's wait for him."

Josh, as if a light bulb came on, put two and two together. "Right, I remember reading that update."

"Mhm." She hummed back, still thinking of their earlier conversation and what Ashley might be doing right now.

Ashley: He'll be you guys' wingman and leave y/n: what? Ashley: I'm making him hop off and sit with me to tell me everything he knows about Josh

y/n jumped at the sound of Josh speaking up, as if he fucking knew what Ashley and herself were up to. "y/n." It's fucking as if he was right behind me as he spoke as soon as i read ashley's message. She thought to herself. Eerie as fuck. y/n: DONT LET HIM LEAVE ME ALONE??? Ashley: oh I heard him call you since Chris put down the headphones Ashley: thisll be interesting y/n: oh my god Ash

"Yes, Josh?" y/n responded, trying her best to separate her current nervousness and his conversation with her.

"Chris told me something a bit back that really had me thinking." He spoke while taking breaths and thinking his words over, which makes his argument more stretched out than it has to be.

y/n responds, waiting for more. "Right..."

Ashley: Im having him explain what Josh is telling you right now y/n: i don't love the fact you guys are talking about us while hearing us Ashley: Im doing it with love I promise y/n: liar ure especially NOSEY Ashley: what can I say? WHAT CAN I SAAAAYYY???

He continued after he trailed off last time. "Yeah, I used to pump him up all the time to speak to Ashley and confess to her, right, and now he's saying I should listen to my own advice." He sounds oddly genuine, something the group doesn't see from the playful flirt.

"Okay?" Still not seeing his point, y/n doesn't comment much.

Josh still puzzled about it, genuinely unsure how to move with his friend's words weighing on his mind "The problem is, I don't get what he means? I go for everything head on. Chris has been busy with Ash and I wanna give them space to adjust, you know."

"You do, but I don't think Chris meant it in that sense. It's sweet you allow them space for them, by the way. Not a lot of people would notice those little things." She spoke up, now mirroring his realness as she realized he was being serious. He seldom opened up about anything at all, and she jumped at the chance to support him.

Ashley: chris says ur right. y/n: what the fuck Ashley: he says he didn't mean it in that sense and josh misunderstood him y/n: omh yall nosey asses i swear Ashley: teehee js ur friendly neighborhood wingman and woman

Josh was kind of taken aback at her comment responding to his question; completely glossing over her compliment. "What?"

y/n explained herself. She placed her hands on her face as she sighed at his emotional immaturity. "Josh, are you inadvertently telling me you like somebody? What you told Chris is really specific to context of love, and if he's telling you the same then you're now in what used to be his boat?" How could somebody be that flirty and that beloved by many girls that he rejects be so oblivious to themselves. Her thoughts were rushing, but she knew she had to focus.

Ashley: HE SO DEFINITELY IS YOU HIT THE NAIL IN THE COFFIN y/n: IS THAT ASH TALKING OR CHRIS CONFIRMING Ashley: oh i told chris to explain later, i wanna hear this. Ashley: update: chris is snickering at joshs stupidity i think he knows that we know that you know ur right y/n: im killing you both istg

Josh sounded a bit over it. "I think I'll call it a night."

"W-What?" y/n stammered in confusion, she was expecting being on for a very long while on this game.

"Chris isn't coming back, if he takes this long then it means goodnight for us all." Josh decided to excuse himself with Chris's impromptu leave.

She didn't know how to explain herself without being vulnerable with him. "Josh-" y/n could see her phone buzz multiple times, but she ignored it to focus on his voice. Her eyes are on the screen, but unfocused.

Josh pushed her away, as he often does with people anyway, keep your friends close from a safe distance. "Forget it."

She blurted out. "No it's fine, I get it."

"What?" Josh's jaw tightened.

"You could be the best person for advice for a certain situation, but literally when it comes to yourself, you are unbeknownst yourself. You helped Chris get her, now it's time somebody helps you. If you try at it without support, you might just lose her." She didn't even know what she was letting slip, but she went with the flow.

Josh groaned. "Goodnight, y/n."

"If that's what you'd like. Goodnight." y/n didn't want to push him, she knew of him well enough that it wasn't safe to temper with him when he declines. He knows himself best, pushing him will make things worse.

Ashley: NOOOO MY RADIO ROMANCE DRAMA y/n: its the fact u listened to all of that Ashley: of course I would what if he confesses to u right then and there y/n: huh Ashley: oh yeah after all of that u think he doesnt like u? y/n: we cant js assume that Ashley: ok im asking chris

As Ashley stopped typing, presumably to speak to Chris, she grabs a box of cookies her mom ordered to her dorm. They travelled without her as per usual, so she's stuck in the university dorms for the break. At least she get free food and free time away from people. A message notification popped up on the top part of her phone and her phone buzzed on the table. It was Josh.

Josh: sorry for cutting you off like that y/n: no harm no foul josh im sorry for pretending like i knew Josh: ironically its the fact you were so correct that made me upset y/n: oh. sorry? Josh: im not here to ask for apologies

She took a bite of the cookie in her hand, and since she was typing with one hand, she was unbearably slow. Fortunately, Josh was also slow in his replies. He was probably thinking through every word sent to her beyond this point. Josh: do u think u could leave ur dorm and we could walk for a bit? i think ill take u up on ur offer to talk things over y/n: sure, its a bit late tho u sure? Josh: yeah ill keep u safe dw, im the one who brought u out anyway. y/n: alr sounds like a plan.

She took out a pair of jeans and a fuzzy jacket. The cold weather of the outdoors was not welcoming of anybody used to the warmth of the indoors. It could be snowing, she thought to grab a few more things that would warm her up including a hot coffee. A 'bzzzzzz' sound filled the room as she changed into the improvised outfit. 'Beeeeeep.' She picked up the drink and took it with her.

Y/n stepped outside and walked out of the dormitory walkway to find Josh sitting in the common room.

He stood up and looked at her. "You ready to go?"

"Yep. Let's go." She nodded and walked right behind him.

He was wearing a flannel with a vest. The flannel was pulled up to his forearms. She spoke up. "You are oddly under dressed for the weather."

His hair was messy, he definitely ran his fingers through it whenever he reached a dead end in his thinking. She could imagine him sighing to himself and playing with it to try to take his mind off of things, messing it up further unintentionally. When she came to, they were now outside on university grounds. The place was gated and open for students during all hours of the day.

Josh looked down at the snowy ground and placed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah I didn't really think it through."

y/n smiled sweetly at him, she knew him to be rash at points where he needed to decide on something. "That's alright, here-"

"Truth is!" Josh perked up, cutting her words like a knife and louder than he initially wanted. Causing her to stare in silence, her eyebrow raised. She'd never be upset at somebody cutting her off once in a while, we all have our moments.

Josh cleared his throat and took a moment before deciding to go through with it. "Truth is, you caught my eye a while back. Chris figured it out first and then he became my confidant in this... weird situation." Y/n's mouth went agape, thinking of saying something, but she closed it to listen to him first.

He continued, still looking away from her. Focusing on his surroundings was his best bet in saying all of this. "He tried his best to convince me, but we were friends for a while, it's best to stay that way. I liked our banter." Telling his therapist his woes was already pushing it enough. This was ten times worse and she could tell.

"You joining us without me knowing you would had me appreciating your presence a lot more." She focused on him, his words, his stature, his walk, and most importantly his mannerisms. She knew he had to let this out it seems evident.

He took a shaky breath and y/n took her scarf off. "It made me need to think. If the people around me knew, then I needed to have a reason for it all."

Once he stopped to breathe, she lent him the scarf. He accepted reluctantly, but appreciated the gesture. He whispered a "thanks" and wrapped it around his neck. He closed his eyes to focus on its pretty scent for a moment. "I started regretting all the times I played with Chris alone. I hated thinking this way because of a lot of things. You getting my situation immediately caused my thoughts to go on overdrive."

She caught him between his breaths, now regulated from the warmth of her scarf. "Josh." y/n stopped in her tracks.

He walked a few steps before realizing she stopped, and turned around to her. "Yeah?"

y/n contemplated her words, but since he already confessed at this point, she had nothing to lose. "The reason how and why I joined you guys tonight was because I wanted to get closer to you. You were special from the moment you entered my life." Once he heard her reciprocation, his eyes focused on her moving lips.

"The amount of times you made me nervous-" Her voice, music to his ears, was stopped by his lips meeting hers. He placed his hands on her cheeks to lift her head slightly up. The cold was quickly replaced by imminent warmth. As much as he wanted to be reckless with her, have sloppier kisses, touch her in places that allow him to explore her curves, he didn't like the idea that they were outside. The kiss was short but desperate, she realized he was waiting for this for a long time.

i wanted to end on part two, but i feel like this def needs a third part. im now going to read this with my word replacer. i love this MAN I NEED HIM NOW. id really appreciate opinions on how the characters were written, i never really wrote fanfiction seriously till now. i usually write original work hidden in my endless google drive lol. thank you for reading!

[numenoria]

The Rings of Power Season 1 Ep 1-4 thoughts/observations/commentary ✨

EP1:

RIP Finrod 😥

Galadriel is a badass consumed by vengeance. I'm sure this WILL NOT come back to bite her.

Galadriel girl you're on your own!!

Young Elrond's hair is quite interesting...

Your honor, I'm convinced this Gil-Galad person wants to fuck Elrond

Evidence:

Arondir the beautiful elf that you are!

Bronwyn is gorgeous and level-headed.

Lil boy put that evil trinket back where it came from oh so help me!!!

These proto-hobbits are adorable and scruffy. I like Nori, she's spunky. I wasn't feeling the Hartfoots hair choices at first but it grew on me.

Galadriel being literally shipped off. Yeah this is def a coverup for something

The blond masc elf REALLY wants Galadriel to stay on the boat

Galadriel: 🤸🏻‍♀️🌊

Who the fuck just fell from the sky?? Naked??

EP2:

Nori is definitely a "run towards the danger" kind of gal

Is that GANDALF?? It's Gandalf right?

Feanor mention!! Simarils?? 👀

"True creation requires sacrifice" Yeah that's not the last time we're going to hear that phrase.

I've been saying Celebrimbor's name wrong this entire time. 😶

YAY Dwarves!!

Elrond is besties with a Dwarf! Durin IV?

Durin why are you showing out!? Elrond just wants to say hi :(

Oh...

20 years!!? Elrond you missed his wedding and the birth of his babies?? I'd show out too!! Trash friend behavior!

Disa! The dwarf queen that you are! She's so inviting and warm. OMG her hair is gorgeous! Durin IV I will fight you for her hand in marriage!

I haaateeee Durin's Hair/Beard combo. They lowkey did him dirty imo.

Why are these people on this raft?? Galadriel do not trust that man!

I'm not sold on the Halbrand thirst yet..

ORCS UNDER THE HOUSE??

I bet yall believe Bronwyn now!

Bro killed the Fireflies oop :(

EP3:

The Elves are slaves?? prisoners?? I don't like this

Who is Adar??

Galadriel and Halbrand are on a bigger boat.

Elendil you ruggedly handsome man. The genes are strong in that bloodline.

Numenor is breathtaking.

These people do not like elves

Galadriel does not know how to talk to people

Queen Tar-Miriel *I AM LOOKING RESPECFULLY*

I thought Pharazon was being played by Jack Black. Like a cleaned up Jack Black. I'm Sorry to both actors.

The Numenorians are very stylish.

Isildur??

Oh no he's dissociating at sea (trauma perhaps?)

I prefer look of these orcs over PJ's orcs.

Some losers are interrogating Halbrand.

Oh shit these guys are about to get curbed stomped to hell!

Halbrand's locked up

OH NO HE'S HOT!!

Evidence:

Why did he look at her like that??? . They def have some simmering sexual tension

"I am not the hero you seek." FORESHADOWING!! Galadriel do not trust this man!

An unsuccessful Elf rebellion. Arondir was giving action hero vibes

Wtf is that?? A warg? An orc dog??

Blurry Adar

EP4:

Miriel holding a baby. She loves her people

It was all a dream

Pharazon is plotting something!! He's very much a Brutus type.

Arondir meets Adar

I am slightly turned on and disgusted

Theo is attached to the evil trinket almost bound to it...

Arondir saves the Theo (I think that's his son?? But they don't know it yet)

Disa is a bad liar 😂

Mithril???

Galadriel locked up.

Halbrand teaching Galadriel about playing mind games. Yeah girl don't trust him!

Galadriel is free

Miriel and Galadriel bond. Do people ship them? Should I ship them? 🤔

The King's health is failing. Poor Miriel.

A Palantir? That's not good. Six more? Like dragon balls?

The crystal nerd in me thinks the Palantir is composed of lapis lazuli (the stone of visions/psychic powers)

Galadriel's getting the boot from Numenor

Arondir to Theo's rescue!

The orcs are ashy and they hate the sun

Disa you better sang to those rocks!!

This scene was very touching.

I love Dwarves!

Durin/Disa/Elrond warms my heart

The Dwarf King knows something is up

Theo do not trust that creepy old man.

Sir unhand that boy! 🔪

The darkness has consumed this old man

Galadriel is shipped off again!

The petals of the White Tree fall.

Galadriel is back w/Queen Miriel's support

Me thinks the people will not take this well

Overall the show is visually pleasing (aside from some styling choices). The cast is strong and very talented. The music is excellent. There's a lot of characters being introduced but that's typical of anything Tolkien related. Thanks for getting this far! I'll continue episodes 5-8 in a separate post ✨🩷

-Davi ☽︎♡︎☾︎

Edit: Not sure what happened, but NONE of the pics/memes I put in the post saved on tumblr mobile! I edited it on desktop so they should show up now. ^^

[nighttimeclassics]

so im just thinking about the Orpheus and Eurydice metaphor in Dead Boy Detectives again...

so i really cant get over the symbolism in the show's comparison between Edwin and Charles and Orpheus and Eurydice. I'm sure someone else more succinct than me has already talked about it but man i just have to because as a classicist it has been consuming my brain since it happened... this is going to be a shitty ramble, but we vibe

so in the show, it is Edwin who first realises his feelings for Charles, and is the first to to truthful about them. Given that, in most translations of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Orpheus' devotion to his wife is seen as the "stronger love" between the pair. highlighted in later adaptations such as Hadestown, as Eurydice makes the active choice to go to the underworld and leave her husband rather than their wedding being overshadowed by issues "worse than any omens". therefore, Edwin could initially be seen as the Orpheus parallel. particularly when you consider that Edwin 'guided Charles from the darkness' when he was dying of hypothermia with the lantern

however, unsurprisingly, given that is it Edwin who escaped from Hell, and is returned to it, Charles appears as the Orpheus parallel, with Edwin being his Eurydice. this is obviously then made super explicit in the show with it being Charles rescuing/ leading Edwin out of Hell. but even then it is not that simple

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, when pleading with Hades and Persephone, Orpheus states "my wife is the cause of my journey. A viper [...] robbed her of her best years. I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won." and obviously at the core of both of these relationships, is a deep deep love between them, regardless of how that manifests. Something i think is a massive parallel that i haven't seen anyone talk about yet is the willingness to remain in the Underworld/Hell for their respective partners.

going back to Metamorphoses, when Orpheus is requesting Eurydice's return to the mortal world, he gives Hades and Persephone an alternative solution of sorts. he says "if the fates refuse my wife this kindness [of returning to life], I am determined not to return {to the mortal realm]: you can delight in both our deaths." now is this not effectively the same thing Charles says to the Night Nurse when bargaining with her to open a door to Hell??? Charles says "then open up a door and I'll go get him, then we're stuck in Hell and you know where we are, or, I bring him back and we're all yours. It's a win-win." tell me that these aren't the same. you cant.

But i do think the most interesting parallel is when Charles and Edwin are running up the spiral staircase. i am not mentioning the times when escaping Hell, Edwin overtook Charles running, because let's be honest, we all know he is the faster sprinter of the two given the 70 years he spent practising. so I am disregarding that. but what I do find fascinating is this - and why I said it was more complicated earlier; in the metamorphoses Orpheus is obviously given the stipulation that he must not look at Eurydice when guiding her out of the underworld, or the agreement "would be null and void". and its here that we see another reversal. during the majority of the run up the staircase, Charles is behind Edwin, because like we have established, he's speedy. but in this key moment, Charles takes the lead in their escape, walking in front of Edwin whilst making it clear that they need to keep moving. just like in the tale, Charles, fulfilling Orpheus' role, "Afraid [they] was no longer there, and eager to see [them], the lover turned his eyes", turns to look back at Edwin, delivering the ridiculously romantic, 'sorry, no version of this where I didn't come get you is there?'. however, after this he refocuses on continuing up the staircase, which is where Edwin steps in:

as you can see in the gif, currently, Edwin is in, what I'm going to call the 'Eurydice position', following the lover out of the afterlife. and it is Edwin, as Eurydice, who basically chooses to condemn himself to the underworld/ hell, allowing the demon to catch up with them just to 'see [his] lover' and ensure Charles knows that '[he] had been loved'. t

im just going to put the section where Orpheus looks back at Eurydice in here because I think its all relevant:

"Afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?). She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place"

by forcing Charles to turn around and face him, Edwin is fulfilling the roles of both Eurydice and Orpheus. in this instance, he is the one 'stretching out his arms' to hold Charles, but he is also the one that could be sent/ dragged back to the afterlife for this, but he just had to make sure Charles was aware of his feelings for him, to know that he was 'loved'. and I think Edwin was potentially prepared to return to the Doll House, or at least believed he would be able to find it more bearable knowing that he had been able to bear his soul to Charles, eve if that meant Charles couldn't come back again and try to rescue him for a second time, which Orpheus tried to do in the Metamorphoses, "Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off" and I feel like we all know Charles would have also kept trying if he lost Edwin again.

i guess, what im trying to say, in the most long-winded way, is that Charles and Edwin don't fill binary roles of one of them being Orpheus and the other being Eurydice, they are both of those things to one another throughout the show and I think that's really beautiful and I have to give massive credit to whoever did episode seven because I really feel like they did their homework. even after all the ramble I have written I still feel like I haven't fully made the point I was trying to make, but I definitely got some of the way there I think

[dsireland86]

Hi! Could I request something with Matt? Where the reader and Matt always dance the line between friends and something more and it irritates the others that they keep denying it?

Thanks!

Another Matt One-Shot! Thank you 😊

Denial

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @an0mallly @flowery-mess 

The box fell over, dumping most of its contents onto the floor. Y/N growled, frustrated with how the day was already going, and it wasn't even noon yet. She was starting to rethink her decision in helping Matt declutter the warehouse, thinking it would have been best if she'd just stayed in bed and shut the world out.

"Hey, let me help," came a soft voice. Matt bent down and helped Y/N toss the cables and extra pieces back into the box. "You alright? You seem a little stressed this morning." "Yeah," Y/N sighed. "Well, no. The water in my apartment building got turned off last night because of a busted pipe, leaving me with no shower, no coffee, and little tolerance." "Shit, I'm sorry! Why didn't you say anything?"

Y/N shrugged. "Didn't want to complain, I guess. There's nothing you can do about it, unless you know how to fix a busted water pipe." Matt grinned, draping an arm over her shoulder. He pulled her close, running his hand up and down the side of her shoulder. The sweet, affectionate gesture made Y/N's body shiver, stirring the pot of swirling emotions for Matt inside her. "No, I can't, but I can offer you a hot shower and a hot cup of coffee over at my place once we're done here, if that'll help."

Y/N blushed, lowering her head to escape embarrassment. "Sorry, was that too much?" "No, no, no, it's fine!" she assured him with a smile. "I really appreciate the offer." Her fingers found Matt's fingers that were around her shoulder, briefly lacing them together. The way her touch made Matt feel was insatiable, causing him to shift from the increased pressure against his shorts. "Yeah?" Matt's stomach flipped inside him, and his heart was pounding. "Yeah," she smiled again.

Y/N picked up the box and carried it over to Matt's work table, sitting it down. She glanced Matt's way once more, grinning like a schoolgirl, before turning and walking away with the brightest smile on her face. "Man, you've got to tell her, Matt. It's obvious she's into you," Noah stated, coming up behind him. He clamped his hand down on Matt's shoulder. "Tell her what?" Noah gawked at Matt. "Really?" Matt shrugged. "You like her. You know you do. She likes you. Why are you both denying it?" "I don't know what you're talking about, Noah. I don't like her like that. Y/N and I are just friends. She's been talking to some other guy anyway, so yeah."

"So," Noah shrugged. "Doesn't mean anything." Matt's face fell. "Whatever. I'm not discussing my personal life with you right now. I've got too much on my mind. "Dude, she likes you. You like her. Just admit it." Matt sighed loudly. "Whatever. Go," shooing Noah away.

Matt did like Y/N, a lot, but he was scared as hell to admit it. She didn't feel the same about him. There was no way. He was her boss and had been for almost a year, never picking up on any of the same vibes that he felt towards her. He was just trying to be nice, regardless of how crazy she made him feel.

Throughout the day, Y/N and Matt continued their weird awkwardness around each other. Whether it was apologizing to the other if they had accidently knocked into each other or hands brushing against hands as they reached for the same thing, Matt and Y/N were fighting the truth like a bull, choosing to stay in complete denial about their feelings for one another

"If they don't kiss or do something, soon, I'm gonna lose it," Jolly commented to Noah and Nick. "Have you seen the two of them today? What hell is up with that?" The three looked over at Matt and Y/N, who were working through a box of computer parts together. Her giggles and his smiles were giving all of them tooth aches. "God. Matt is being ridiculous," Nick chuckled. Noah sighed, plopping down on the couch and stretching his long arms over the back. "Just wait. Something's going to happen. Knowing Matt, he won't be able to handle it much longer." "Why do you say that?" Noah raised an eyebrow, twisting the ring on his right hand. "Matt's an impatient person. When he wants something, he'll just take it."

Jolly hummed. "So, what you're saying is that by tomorrow, Matt and Y/N will have slept together?" Noah grinned, cocking an eyebrow. "No way." Jolly disagreed. "You wanna make a bet?" Jolly narrowed his eyes, staring at Noah. "Fifty dollars says she doesn't." Noah stuck his hand out. "Deal."

"Hey, Y/N, you want this last Celsius in here," Folio asked, buried in the refrigerator. "Mmm, I think that's Matt's. Doesn't he get really mad when people take his drinks, especially if it's the last one?" Folio peered at her from around the side of the fridge. "Well, yeah, but it's you. He won't care." "Who won't care about what?" Matt asked, casually forcing his way into the conversation. "You won't care if Y/N takes your last can of Celsius." "Oh, no, go ahead. Maybe it'll make up for that missing cup of coffee this morning." Matt winked at Y/N, making her smile. "See," Folio noted. Y/N chuckled.

Matt stopped next to her and just stared at her for a moment. "You okay?" she asked, skeptically. He nodded as a small smile spread over his lips. Y/N grinned, looking down again. "God, the two of you are ridiculous," Folio groaned, closing the fridge and handing Y/N the energy drink. "Just fucking sleep together, already and put us all out of misery." "Folio, what the fuck, dude!" "What! It's obvious you two like each other." "Oh, no," Y/N denied, shaking her head. Matt looked at her as if her words stung. "Well," she shrugged nervously, "you're my boss. That's all."

Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away. "See, I'm her boss. Sleeping together would be out of the question," he stated, glancing over at Y/N, who opened the can of Celsius and took a long sip. "These are the last two freaking boxes," Y/N sighed, dropping the ones in her arms with a thud. Matt gave her a stern look, raising an eyebrow. "Hopefully, there's nothing valuable in there." "Really? Matt, we've gone through forty boxes, and not one thing in any of them is valuable." "Well, maybe forty-one and forty-two will be different." "Make that forty-three," Nicholas corrected, dropping one more box on top of the other two. "Ugh," Y/N groaned, scowling at Matt. "I just want to shower." "Alright, look, take my keys," Matt said, pulling them from his pocket. "Take my car, go to your apartment and get whatever you need for your shower, then go to my house and take one. Use all the hot water if you want to, I don't care. I'll get one of the guys to bring me home."

Y/N stared at Matt, her eyes etched with curiosity. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to inconvenience you or anything." "You're not. Honest," Matt assured her, with a soft grin. Y/N's lips curled into a sweet smile, graciously accepting the offer. "I won't make a mess. And I won't use all your hot water. You won't even know I was there." Matt nodded, watching as Y/N turned around and walked out of the warehouse, silently hoping she would wreck his entire house.

Matt pulled the spare key out from the small box behind the planter, unlocking the door. His two boys greeted him with wagging tails and hand licks, so excited that dad was home and after plenty of pets, kisses, and outside potty breaks, Matt finally climbed the stairs to check if Y/N was still in the shower. It was quiet, not a trace of running water.

"Y/N?" Matt checked the spare bathroom first, hoping Y/N didn't choose to use it; not when he had the huge walk in one in his bathroom. To his disappointment, she had, which honestly didn't surprise him. "Y/N?" Matt called out again. Her stuff was still in the bathroom, so she had to be here somewhere.

Going back downstairs, Matt checked the kitchen and the living room, stopping immediately when he glanced over the couch. Y/N was curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. She was a beautiful sight to see, so relaxed and at peace, making Matt's heart race.Kneeling down next to her and gently brushing strands of hair away from her face, Matt watched Y/N sleep, focusing on all the pretty little things about her he had never noticed before. After a few minutes, he decided that a bed would better suit Y/N than the couch. Carefully lifting her, he carried her upstairs and laid her down gently in the comfort of his bed.

It was pitch black when Y/N awoke to the sound of silence. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she looked around, trying to figure out where she was. The touch of a hand on her lower back startled her, but the voice did not. "Hey," came the sleepy voice of Matt as he rolled over on his side. By now the dim light from the hall seeped into the darkness, creating the right amount of light for them to see each other.

"Hey." "You fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah. I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to. I just," "It's fine, Y/N," Matt said, scooting closer to her. "You don't have to apologize." "You sure?" Y/N sounded so uncertain that Matt was being honest and it bothered him. "Yeah, I'm sure. Why do you always question me when I say it's okay?" Matt sat up next to her, their shoulders touching. Her being this close to him was really messing with his head and his heart. "I don't know," Y/N, huffed a laugh looking away. But Matt stopped her. "And why do you always look away from me when I'm trying to be nice to you," laying his hand over her cheek to pull her back so that he could look at her.

Through the soft glow of the moon and the hall lights, Y/N never looked more beautiful to Matt than she did right now, with messy hair and sleepy eyes. He was captivated by her, afraid to look anywhere else but at her. His thumb trailed back and forth over her lips as they continued staring at one another and the utter silence was the perfect setting for the light sound of only their heartbeats.

Matt's eyes darted between Y/N's. "How have I never noticed how beautiful you are?" Y/N shrugged. "I'm pretty average." "Whatever. Don't even pretend you don't know how incredibly sexy and amazing you are." Y/N just stared at Matt. "If you say so." "I do. You're pretty perfect." "Oh god, Matt! I'm a ridiculous mess," Y/N groaned, bringing her hands to her face. "Hey, no you're not. Come here." Matt pulled Y/N towards him, shifting their bodies until she was sitting between his legs, up against his chest. "Good?"  Y/N nodded, leaning all the way back against him. Matt was warm and comfortable, making it even better when his arms came around and wrapped around her.

"Is this okay?..." "Better than okay," she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. Matt leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the side of her temple. The feeling of his lips on her skin made Y/N shiver. "Goosebumps," Matt whispered against her ear, his hands trailing up and down her arms. "Matt," she whimpered in the dark, her voice trembling. He kissed the side of her face and this time she tilted her head so he could get a better angle. The feeling of Matt's lips gliding along her skin made Y/N clench her thighs together. This was wrong. He was her boss, her friend. But why did it feel so right?

"Matt, what are we?" she softly asked as his hands found hers. "We don't have to be anything. I'm tired of people trying to label us." "You know the others already think we're something, right? "I had a feeling." "Are they right?" "You tell me, Y/N," Matt answered, lacing his fingers through hers. She shifted, turning around and facing him. "I think you know what we are, Matt. I think you just want me to be the first to say it."

Matt clenched his jaw tight, unable to hide the way his body was reacting towards her. He was dying to tell her the truth, yet scared she'd run away. But then she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing her legs on either side of him, pulling herself up into his lap. Y/N gasped lightly the moment she felt his hard length press against her core, causing Matt to grunt. "Then say it, Y/N. Tell me what we are, what you want, and I'll give it to you, whatever it is."

The desperate, yet promising look in Matt's eyes was enough for Y/N. With her arms around his neck, she leaned into him and kissed him, softly at first, hoping this wasn't a mistake. She pulled back, looking at Matt's reaction. His eyes were blown wide with surprise yet with a hungry need for more. "I can't lie anymore, Matt. I want you, and not just as a one night stand." Matt smiled, slipping his hands around her face, pulling her back in for another heated kiss, this time harder. "I'm all yours baby. I'm not going anywhere," he promised, pulling back for a moment to look at her. "And fuck, don't ever stop looking at me like the way you are right now." Y/N giggled, throwing herself back into another kiss with Matt. "Baby, I can't hold back anymore," Matt groaned the second she pressed her core harder against his erection. "I want you, right here, now," he panted between her kisses. "Then take me, Matt. I'm yours."

Matt gazed at her for a moment, hoping that what she was saying was true. "You're serious? No fucking with my head?" Y/N smiled, grabbing the waistband of her shorts and pulling them off her. Because it was dark, Matt couldn't see her, but he didn't have to. Y/N took his hand and placed it directly between her legs, letting him feel how wet she was for him. "I'm yours, Matthew. Only yours."

With neither one of them denying their feelings any longer, her promise was all Matt needed. Slipping two fingers instantly inside her, he claimed Y/N as his by making her cum on just his fingers alone. It was unlike anything Matt had ever felt before. She made him feel powerful, fully in charge and capable of anything. Their love making for the first time changed everything for both of them. There was no fear, no questions, just wanting and love, neither one of them able to get enough of the other. The room was filled with nothing but moonlight and moans, cries of passion and groans of ecstasy mixed with the smell of sweat and sex. It was unlike anything they had ever experienced. It was love; pure, undoubting, unwavering love.

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT. I hope this message finds you well. I am sending all the good vibes and we'll wishes your way! ♥️♥️♥️ I hope you've had a wonderful summer.

I'm such a big fan of your work. Lioneheart is amazing and has stuck with me for such a long time.

I was wondering if you had any other stories you'd like to explore one day (even if you never get the chance to write them.) Whether it be fanfiction or original work, I was just curious because sometimes I feel as if I have hundreds of stories inside that I could tell, and I am not sure how to pick just one and see it to completion.

First of all, thank you! This is a fun one. I have a few enduring ideas for longfics I may or may not ever write (i.e., ideas that would have been projects already if I didn't have an ongoing longfic). I don't get stuck in them mostly because I try to remind myself that the idealized story you imagine when a concept occurs to you will never actually exist as it does when it's unshackled by the constraints of execution. What you'll get if you actually sit down and hack it out is (1) a real and imperfect piece of writing, and (2) the satisfaction of having written it, which is by far the more reliable source of motivation, if we're being honest. That being said, here are some ideas I've always wanted to explore, if and when I finish Lionheart:

I've always wanted to write a longform canon-divergent Tomione fic about Tom Riddle's 7th year at Hogwarts. Big honking political melodrama ft. the original Knights of Walpurgis, a Triwizard Tournament, and realistically functioning time travel (hence why this one's always been kicked down my list of projects, because writing a time-travel plot is like running through a minefield made of trampolines). I've already got character concepts sketched out for the Hogwarts cast — sooooo many fun ideas for the teenage Walburga. But I'd still need about a week of solid fic preproduction on the plot alone before I was ready to boot up and start writing, and it'd take at least 250k words — closer to 300k, if I'm being honest about myself. So this probably won't see the light of day anytime remotely soon, if ever.

A canon-compliant Dramione war fic, diverging from the Malfoy Manor chapters in Book 7, picking up from a speculative thread I read once about what would happen if the war didn't end after Voldemort died at the Battle of Hogwarts. I've always thought it would be fascinating to see who Hermione and Draco would become if they were actual soldiers in the war (and my disappointment with how Book 7 handled the "war" of it all has been established). That being said, Book 7 of Lionheart will probably give me a lot of similar ideas to chew on, so I don't know what my appetite for this one will be once I'm finished with it.

Durmstrang AU. This one's barely a fic concept so much as it is a mental moodboard — I just want to worldbuild the hell out of Durmstrang. And the international wizarding world, generally. It's a delicious sandbox.

A longform canon-compliant fic or series of fics about the previous generation of Blacks (Sirius/Bellatrix/Narcissa, namely). If you look at the books, there's a huge amount we don't know about the fall of the Blacks. I always found it bizarre that the sisters and Sirius seem to be the only ones left by 1995. No one else has a claim? No one else from this all-powerful wizarding family wants to step in and claim this big honking townhouse in the middle of London? Or its attendant fortune? Dude, what happened? Also, we don't see nearly enough of the Black family melodrama in canon. They lose 4/5 children of a generation in the span of almost single decade. And then (presumably) all of their parents die in the span of another. Goddamn. Just imagine the character work you could do there.

A No Chosen One/Voldemort Wins (The First Time) AU where Hermione never gets her letter, and meets Draco much later in life as a self-taught witch. The dynamics I have in my head for this are really enjoyable, and it would be a chance to finally write Hermione POV, plus the Draco I've cooked up for this universe is [chefs kiss]. I also just love the idea of Hermione as a feral witch-child running around muggle London. I love it a lot.

[thephantomsdream]

So I just have this idea in mind about a meet-cute with our dearest John.

[Notes: I am writing this at work, and it is raining, and no, I have no costumers, and yes, it is self-indulgent because why not. We're just vibing and dumping cute stuff with some spell-checking, but I could've missed something so I do apologize for that. No use of Y/N or Reader in this one.]

Imagine it's raining where you are right now and you work dealing with customers somehow, yeah? Anyway, John is in the city for work, as always, and he coincidentally entered your workplace. He's smitten, not gonna lie. I see him as the type of man to know, you know? Hell, he'll look at you and you'll also feel the want too, the way he's seizing you up, almost as he is planning how to slowly kiss you. I swear you can feel his warm and rugged hands running over your body, but you have to act professional because he's hot and you're most likely looking too much into things.

But you're actually not, yeah? He smiles at you, a little small smile, blue eyes flicking between your eyes and lips. And god, he fucking looks into your soul. If you have time to talk to him, he'll definitely ask you about yourself while telling you some things about himself, vague but enough to satisfy curiosity. It's also raining, meaning you don't have many costumers, so the conversation goes and he runs it smoothly. It's effortless, the way he talks to you and makes you comfortable. Yes, definitely, you can tell he's flirting with you, but contrary to some younger men, he's calm, he's not pushy, although he is a little in your space. Just a little intense, and you can tell he's like that all the time. Close enough for you to smell his cologne, close enough to hear his voice rasp as he finishes his sentences as he's a little bit distracted by your lips. When you notice and smile, he does too, naturally, happy to get a good reaction out of you.

But everything stops when he gets a message. His lips purse and he grunts, shoving the phone in his pocket and smiling at you, disappointment in his eyes. He sees you get busy as a client walks in, a little sad he has to leave and can't even say goodbye properly, but he reaches for something in his pocket.

"I insist. You said you didn't grab one when you left home, yeah? Take it, love." He says, pushing his damp umbrella in your hand. It was velvety and sturdy, and his hand brushed yours in the right way. Not too much, but enough to get an idea of how warm he was.

"John, really, you don't have to do this. How will you go back?" You'd question.

"Nonsense, I have my coworkers waiting for me close-by and afterwards I won't need it anymore." He did say he'd have to leave the city, showing no sign of wanting to ask you about... anything, really. No number, no proper full name, no social media. Maybe it was just meant to be a very pleasant conversation with just a costumer. It didn't help that you couldn't bring yourself to ask either.

You accept bashfully, smiling at him when he seemed relieved and happy to have you take his small gift. You then wished him a good journey to wherever he's heading. And good luck with everything.

It did look like the man wanted to say more than a simple "Thank you, dove." but he stopped himself with a nod then headed out. Basically rushed, honestly. It did throw you off, how interested he was and just how fast it suddently finished.

Rain stopped not long after and you didn't need the umbrella that day, ending up at home, put away somewhere safe. At least you got a good quality umbrella out of this ordeal, yet you couldn't stop thinking about him.

That story now behind, spring came full force and the rain did not come back until almost three months later.

Weather app lied, it seems, as you glanced outside the store and saw zero rain, and you sighed, having carried your (new and fancy) umbrella around with you all this time. As your eyes studied the outside scenery, someone walked through the front door and you already plastered your "Welcome, dearest costumer" smile when it faltered a little in surprise as you recognized the man that entered rushing in the store. Of course you would, as if you stopped thinking about him. As of today, you were slowly starting to think less about the mysterious John, having to accept that he was just passing by and that you were a little encounter in his busy life. But he was here. In your store. Again. Looking for something. Or someone...

Rushing through the door, almost out of breath, he scanned his surroundings in a milisecond to spot you already watching him. The relief was prominent on his features, making you feel excited? He looked relieved to see you, then he immediately looked a little hesitant, unsure. As if his legs brought him there before he could think it through, although it didn't take long for him to smile at you.

"Been a while, yeah?" God, his voice was even better slightly breathless.

You eagerly get to talking again, his chest puffed and his back stood straighter when you easily told him that of course you remember him because how could you not, really? Conversation was just a tad awkward, him searching in your eyes for something while trying to play it cool.

He pointed out the entrance with a small nod of his head and smiled as you both watched a few shy droplets of water finally hit the dry floor, seconds later it starting a downfall. His eyes locked back onto your face and he asked a simple "I trust the umbrella's been handy?" and to that you smile, explaining how you never got to use it but coincidentally, it was now hanging out in the back with your purse, since finally it was supposed to rain again (Weather App redeemed). To that he just looks at you, expression morphing from shock, to relief to amusement.

He had this way of commanding a room, having people wait for him to react and this would be the first time you'd notice a quirk of his as you yourself held your breath, seeing he was about to say something. He'd take a sharp breath, tilt his head and take a small step forward when he was going to say something intense, something from the bottom of his heart and guts.

"Would I be a fool to ask you on a date, love?" He'd swoop the the rug under your feet with that and continue. "Because I was a fool once to try to act subtle and I almost missed my chance." He laughs at something, something that will turn into a light-hearted joke between you.

As you stutter a yes, you also ask him what he meant. You weren't an idiot, he was interested few months back, but he never made a move, not even a subtle one, just rushed out. Just like that. Poof.

Funny, huh? How he slipped his number on a small piece of paper in the umbrella, thinking it would be cute for it to fall out as you open it. Also, he didn't want to bother you anymore at work, specially since you already had some costumers and he already took so much of your time. (They could've waited, but whatever. Ugh, that mindful dumbass.)

The first time you made him stutter was exactly after he explained that to you, as you raised a brow at him and asked. "What if I used the umbrella in a rush, in pouring rain and I'd never see the piece of paper fall?" It was indeed a question he surely asked himself afterwards a couple of thousands of times in the dead of the night, berating himself for it, yet he still didn't have a good answer for that, hence the stutter and the absolutely fucking adorable shade of pink painting his cheeks for a couple of seconds there.

The way John sees it is that he spent two months waiting for a message, a call, anything. He sometimes couldn't attend his phone but made sure that the number he gave you was always available, even if he couldn't answer immediately. Hell, he even pulled through missions faster to come back to base and look at the device and be greeted with disappointment. It took him a few weeks to accept that you weren't going to contact him and acceptance started to hit, although John can't really let it go before thinking of all the what-ifs imaginable (after some more weeks of sulking silently), so of course he checked the weather in your area after he left you. And of course he saw that in fact it did not rain again, yet he couldn't be sure if it rained that same day, and if it did, how much. Records weren't that clear in your specific area.

He needed to know if you found the paper or not. It was all he had to know. John Price was left stumped and in need of answers. Answers he came to get because John Price knew the moment he saw you that it would be too good to let go.

You had to check yourself, it didn't matter that it was at work with him there. You went back, grabbed the umbrella and opened it, and surely enough, with his observant eyes studying every single one of your movements as he followed right behind, you watched in fascination as a small piece of paper fell swaying side to side in its descend, as if mocking you.

"00xx-xxxx-xxxxxxx"

"I'd love to hear from you again. Call me anytime. John."

As you'd tell this story to anyone who asked you two how you met, you'd roll your eyes at John any single time. He called it fate, said the wait was worth it to see you watch that paper fall out of the umbrella, meanwhile you ways end up calling him an idiot. Lovingly. For such a bright man, he was indeed an idiot. Your idiot thought. (In his defense, it was the only time he ever attempted subtleties with you, learing his lesson and all.) One thing for sure? The story never ceased to bring a smile on your face.

[g1rlsp1ckins]

🥨🌱&🐚 pleaaseeee!!! & any reality your heart desiresss!!!

𝓢HIFTING 𝓐SK ✶ 𝓖AME

for my haikyuu (college) dr

🥨 - TWISTY PRETZEL – what twists and surprises happen in your dr? are there unexpected friendships, plot twists, or new adventures waiting for you?

1. Reuniting with a Ghost From the Past

Oikawa Toru shows up. At Karasuno University.

He started taking a sports science program that happened to collaborate with my university. I found out by accidentally running into him at a ramen shop near campus. The tension is thick—unfinished conversations, unsent messages, and the silent what if that still lingers between us. He’s grown, still as dramatic as hell, but more grounded. And now, we're suddenly… around each other again. Cue emotional whiplash.

2. The Unexpected Best Friend Energy

I randomly ended up seated next to Yamaguchi Tadashi in a lit elective. At first, we didn’t talk much. But then we get paired for a group project, and I start to see his dry wit, his quiet resilience, and the way he works hard without needing validation. He becomes my safe space. We exchange playlists, study together at weird hours, and become those friends who can just sit in silence and vibe.

3. Manager Role? Not Quite.

Though I start helping the volleyball team with drills and stats, it doesn’t take long for Hinata to beg me to “just serve once so we can see it.” I cave, obviously. And it’s a bomb. The entire gym goes silent. Even Tsukishima looks up from his phone.

This kickstarts a new journey—not as a player (not yet), but as a speciality coach for the team. Daichi convinces me to help train the next gen of players—serve techniques, court awareness, and game psychology. I'm still avoiding playing full-on, but I'm in it, and it feels right.

4. Her First Real Crush Since High School

Oof. Yeah, it happens.

I never planned to fall. But I meet a grad student who’s helping out with the psych department, and damn, he’s smart, funny, and sees through my walls in a way that’s unsettling. Think: late-night library talks, unexpected emotional vulnerability, and a “why do I feel safe with you?” kind of tension. Oikawa notices. And things get messy.

5. Rebuilding Her Relationship With Her Old Team

A random group chat revival leads to a full-on Aoba Johsai mini-reunion. Matsukawa and Hanamaki still act like idiots. Iwaizumi gives me that solid hug I've needed for years. We talk about the past—openly. There’s crying. Closure. And healing.

· · ─ 🏐 ─ · ·

🌱 - HOPEFUL SPROUT – what personal growth do you go through in your dr? is there a skill, mindset, or dream version of yourself that you develop over time?

1. I stopped measuring my worth by what I could do.

Back at Aoba Johsai, I was the volleyball girl. Reliable. Strong. Sharp. I built my whole damn identity around that version of me. When the injury took it away, I didn’t know who I was without it. I smiled through it, but inside? I was spiralling, quietly.

Coming to Karasuno Uni, I didn’t just want a fresh start—I needed to figure out who I was without a jersey on my back. And little by little, I started to realise:

I’m still me—even when I’m not winning, even when I’m broken, even when I’m not needed.

That hit hard. It still does. But I’m softer with myself now. Less pressure. Less performance. More just… being. And that’s enough.

2. I learned to stay.

My first instinct has always been to run. If it got complicated, if I felt too much, I bounced. When I got hurt? I disappeared. Oikawa tried to reach out, and I ghosted him. The team? I shut them out.

But here… at uni… something shifted. I started staying. I stayed through the awkward talks, the emotional messes, and the moments where I wanted to shut down. I let people see the bruised parts of me.

Turns out, connection isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being real. And staying, even when it’s uncomfortable, is one of the bravest things I’ve learnt to do.

3. I found my voice—off the court.

In high school, I had things to say. I just didn’t always feel like I was allowed to say them. At Karasuno, I found spaces that actually listened. Lit classes, psych seminars… suddenly, people cared about what I thought. About how I saw the world.

I started presenting research. Sharing ideas. Writing poetry that got published in a little zine with a staple in the middle. People started telling me I had clarity. That I made them feel understood.

I still love the game. But now? I love my mind, too.

4. I fell back in love with the game—on my own damn terms.

Volleyball used to mean pressure. Winning. Performing. Being good enough. But watching Karasuno's team flail and fly and try with everything they had—it cracked something open in me.

They weren’t perfect. God, they were chaotic. But they loved it. And so did I.

I stopped trying to have some tragic comeback arc. I started mentoring. Coaching. Giving what I had without needing the spotlight. And when I stepped back onto the court?

It wasn’t about proving anything.

It was freedom.

5. I started dreaming bigger.

I used to think the goal was just… survive. Graduate. Stay invisible.

Now? I want more. I’m working toward becoming a sports psychologist. I want to help athletes who feel the way I did—lost, burned out, scared. I want to show them there's more to life than medals and perfect plays.

And I’ve started to believe that maybe… just maybe… I deserve good things. Love. Peace. My own joy. Not earned, not bargained for. Just mine.

· · ─ 🏐 ─ · ·

🐚 -  SAFE SHELL – who or what is always there for you in your dr, wrapping around your life like ivy on a wall? a best friend, a mentor, or a deep connection?

Yamaguchi.

Tadashi was the first person at Karasuno who really saw me, not just the “former athlete” or “American transfer” or “that girl who won’t shut up about perfect serve arcs.” We met in some random psych elective, partnered on a project neither of us cared about. He was quiet, but when he spoke? He cut through.

He never asked for the edited version of me. He just let me be—tired, messy, cynical—and answered with warmth. He started sharing his playlist. I started sharing pieces of my past. We built a rhythm. And over time, he became the place I ran to instead of the one I ran from.

He’s not loud about it. But he’s always there.

Coach Ukai.

He’s the one who handed me a clipboard before I even realised I needed one. He saw me watching practice one day, just lingering in the doorway, and said, “You can stay, y’know. Don’t gotta play to matter.”

That gutted me.

Because back then, I didn’t believe that. But he did. Every time I doubted myself, he’d give me a task—scout this team, tweak that drill, fix their damn footwork. He trusted me when I didn’t. He pushed, but never too hard. Always just enough to make me remember who the hell I was.

He became a mirror and a mentor. A calm, grounding presence.

Iwaizumi.

Hajime was my past—Aoba Johsai days, before everything cracked. Back then, he was steady, the backbone of the boys’ team. He was always the one who made sure I drank water after a match or stretched my shoulder after I took too many dives.

We lost touch after I disappeared. But the second he heard I was back in the game, he showed up. No drama. No guilt trips. Just an Iwaizumi hug—tight, quiet, everything I didn’t know I needed.

He doesn’t talk about emotions much, but he shows up. He texts me after rough matches. Checks in on my knee. Sends me ugly memes when I’m spiralling at 2AM. He knows who I was, and he respects who I’m becoming.

He’s my history and my healing.

· · ─ 🏐 ─ · ·

hey so new dr??? yayyy!!