#plus just ic stuff on here and gray

[svndaysaweek]

Wanna Make You Mine — {Feat. Minji}

5k words

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while! I felt like I should write and post something, and here it is. This was not written in my best condition, but it’s Minji😌. Honored to have had @chunksworld as a beta-reader and an editor! If you find some amazingly well-written sentences most likely it’s from him haha☺️ Enjoy!

******

It was a few days ago when rain poured heavily, unexpectedly leading to one of the hottest encounters you have ever experienced in your life. And the more you reminisce, the bigger your smile grows, bittersweetly. If someone told you it was a dream, you’d buy that. A fever dream, albeit a short one. But it hasan everlasting lingering image carved in your heart. It was fire-hot, it was ice-cold. Like bubble gum you savor it when it tastes sweet, but it diminishes when the sweet is gone.

The day you forgot your umbrella is a day you will never, ever forget. It was a surprise, a super hot one to you. And like a hit-and-run, it stuns you, and then leaves, barely leaving any marks.

******

You don’t precisely remember since when, but there’s something about her that made her stand out to you. Multiple times you caught her looking your way then quickly avoiding your eyes–it happened enough for you to sense how unusual it is. 

It’s not because she stands out; she doesn’t. She is considered by many as a model student and everyone likes her. Acing quizzes, straight A’s and with a courteous manner. She was given every admirable virtue in her heart, and radiates it like it’s her body odor. A waking proof that humans can be perfect. But she’s not the one to boast about it, keeping down people’s envy in the level of admiration and friendliness. 

For you, Kim Minji is just another student who happens to be in the same school as you. Sometimes you get a nod as a sign of greeting from her and sometimes she just passes by. Still, everytime you run into her, her tranquil smile tells you how she became the model student that she is. Not a single person in this school would succeed in disliking her. You see how everyone says hi to her just to hear it back. And with no exception, she does. To you, too, of course. Sometimes she says “hi” first, and sometimes you do. 

A respectable student. That’s it. Nothing less, nothing more.

******

Today it is raining. At this point, it’s plausible that God knows you didn’t bring your umbrella for the third time this month. Third time you brought an extra tumbler, third time you left your umbrella at home, and the third time it rained. Youthink of repenting but deep in your mind you know God owes you a big apology, not the other way around.

The downpour is heavy so you decide to wait in school knowing that it will die down in a few minutes, well that's what you hope because you don't want to risk getting any of your stuff wet.

You are and have always been a quiet kid in school—an introvert. Just the right amount of friends, not really prone to being bullied, a surprisingly average amount of female interactions and above-average grades. Just one of those boys who loves listening to music, watching movies and a bunch of other things.

Can’t spend a rainy day without music on your headphones, can you? Plus, it’s just you in this big hallway so you wear it and turn the jazzy classics on while you stroll lazily along the windows. You blindly step to the comforting rhythm of the song watching the droplets kiss the window. Guess you won't blame God for the rain this time. 

You look at the dark gray concrete walls, white window frames, bright gray limestone floor, and the wooden doors of the classrooms you walk by. With the music flowing through your ears and rain crashing on the windows right in front of you, even the gloomy colors of the school building looks rather comforting.

So you walk, and walk, and walk until you’re back in front of your classroom. The rain has become a lot more silent than when it started and it’ll get dark soon. You want to spend your Friday evenings at home and not in school.

The rain will have stopped by the sunset and theair would beclean then. You wouldn’t want to miss the glow of the setting sun with such a crystal clear sky. You imagine the view it’d give you, which songs would be perfect to listen to and you just can’t hold a smile back. 

“Oh! Oh… hey…” When you open the door, Minji is frightened by you. She looks disheveled from head to toe. Her hair is frazzled, her face ruddy, her breath heavy. But what’s more desecrating is that her shirt is open, her unblemished midriff has a layer of sweat-like liquid coating it, taint on her gray bra. All of it is sent to your brain to process, which causes it to cease functioning for a second.

“D-don’t mind me.” Then she rushes to what you assume to be the restroom Kim Minji, who has never even opened a button of her shirt in school before and yet you just saw her bare belly. You’re blushing, trying not to think about it but you fail miserably. It feels dirty to be like this—she isn’t one of those provocative types of girls to you… or she wasn’t.

But you can’t explain why she’s so frantic with her skin so exposed. Why was she so out of breath and sweaty? Why was she so surprised to see you and then proceeded to rush outside the classroom?

Has she been sacred or sanctimonious? Has she been exemplary or errant?

You know it’s a rash judgment.

You step inside the classroom then walk over to your seat where you find an oddly-placed puddle on the desk. Not as big as a spilled bottle of water, not as small as the drool you usually make when you doze off with your face buried in your arms during class.

You examine it by dipping your finger on it.

Definitely not water.

Then what?

“What's this?” You find a blue switch and pick it up. 

“Hey,” Flabbergasted, you turn around so quickly that it slips out of your grip. It's Minji who's standing at the door frame, leaning slightly on the wall. 

Her shirt is still open, and so are the stains on her bra and her messy hair. It seems like she didn't tidy herself up in the bathroom. 

“Did you spill something on my desk, Minji?” For the moment you think that's what happened. Every clue provided to you is telling you just one thing, and you're pretty sure you got it right. Maybe she'll apologize, and you're going to say it's nothing and help her clean it up. She'll then thank you and say you're such a nice person.

Well, it sure is a possible series of normal things to happen. 

Unless Kim Minji brings a crazy plot twist for the two of you only.

“No, I didn't.” And step by step she approaches you. The way she walks draws your eyes to her slick legs and the uniform skirt she's wearing: dark gray as always. But it hangs way higher than usual, so high and short that you almost catch a glimpse of her underwear.

You're just standing there still, wondering why she’s acting unprecedentedly strange. You don’t even recognize that she’s already just in front of you. You’re trying your best not to look at her breasts even when she slowly squats down to the floor.

“You dropped this.” You realize when Minji hands it to you that it is a switch. That she wants it in your hand and that she wants to see you flick your finger on it and turn it on.

“Minji, is this…?” There is only a shy grin on her face. Swear to god, you didn’t even imagine in your dreams that such a thing would happen to you. You’re yet to escape the stage of denial, to be honest. Where was the heads-up to begin with?

“Wanna try turning it on?” Her tone is so casual that you didn’t get it the first time. You’re just totally dumbfounded. Minji sees it, knows it and understands it.

“Go on, do it.” Her eyes are on your fingers. Her teeth dig into her bottomlip. Her eyelids flutter. Your thumb is now on the switch, ready to flick it on. Your thumb presses on it, just enough for the knuckle to whiten up, but not really turn it on.

Her arms hug your neck, and the moment she does, you flick the switch up. You didn’t mean to, but when she hugged you your thumb automatically moved so it was turned on with a clicking sound. An embarrassed gasp leaves your mouth.

But when she buries her face in the crook of your neck and moans all the gibberish improvised excuses building in your head washes away.

At the risk of sounding grandiose, it’s rather the situation she lures you in that is overloading you mentally. It hasn't even been 5 minutes since you ran into her.

“Y-you know…” At this point you can’t even imagine what’s going to unfold. If she confesses that she is in fact an alien from Saturn you’ll sense no absurdity. You’ll just breathe it in.

You feel her body shaking by how her weight changes every second. And you’re standing there like a dumb statue, not knowing where to put your hands, even when she’s almost climaxing mere inches away and your lust is getting completely heightened by it.

“I’ve had a crush on you for so long…”

No one couldn’t have ever anticipated that. For a moment you forgot to breathe; Minji has taken it away. And when she bites into your shoulder you gasp, feeling the tingling sensation rushing down your spine.

“I’ve liked you eversince the first time I saw you by the way.” She’s struggling to make her words distinguishable in between moans and hisses, while you’re struggling to come up with a proper reaction to what you’re currently experiencing.

This whole situation you find yourself in is so foul and so hot given that she’s one of the most admirable students of your school. She was supposed to be out of your league and yet somehow the timid and quiet boy is who she wanted all along.

“You’re going to make me cum…!” Hearing it coming through her lips makes your head spin, makes your cock throb painfully inside your pants. You don’t even expect yourself to think straight, nor want to think straight.

During the day she’s a model student, then after school she becomes a kinky pervert. It’s the least possible thing in your life to happen and yet here you are.

But when she cums and squirts on your pants, you’re proven very wrong. 

“I… I like you.” Out of breath she whispers, still cumming and you support her by her bare waist. You switch off the toy and just let her go through the bliss of post orgasm.

As she comes down her arms let go of you, still panting. “Do you like me too?” That’s not even a question, as her eyes are on your shirt and her hands are already halfway down unbuttoning it. 

“Minji…” You take her already open shirt off of her arms before fondling her breasts over her bra. Your eyes are fixed at the pair in your hands while you can feel hers glaring into your eyes.

“Mhm. Go on. Take as much as you like.” Her hands seductively unbutton your shirt, one by one, from the top down. She’s not in a hurry but in a matter of seconds your top vanishes. Then she puts her lips dangerously close to yours, hovering and tickling your lips with subtle skims. 

“But don’t forget to let me do the same, okay?” She sounds so full of confidence but her face is as red as yours. The eyelock doubles and triples the heat between you two and when the distance is completely eliminated by a messy lip lock, your heart begins to beat out of your chest.

Her tongue is aggressive inside around yours. Her hand is already a hand of a luster, already sneaking down on your pants sending shivers up to the crown of your head so easily. You grab and unhook your belt, and Minji purrs delightfully when she sees your erection spring out ontoher belly.

“This is a yes, right?” Minji pushes you lightly, just enough for you to know that she wants you on the desk. Her tummy brushes against your erection as she climbs up to face you again after swiftly removing her bra. You’re met with her mouthwatering pair of breasts pressed against your bare chest. 

“I don’t understand why…” Her fingers trace down your jawline to your lips. The placidity oozing out from her words is making you fret over—inside, you want her to take advantage of this one-way situation as much as she can. Your hands find her sweaty tits and fondle them softly, and she moans with a dreamy smile.

“But you kinda make me feel things. Unexplainable, but certainly that’s more than just love.” It's an overwhelming lust you obviously planted in her. You can see how ripe it is, and now you’re reaping it. It’s sweet, the flesh, the hue is so mature and obscene. 

“Say something, hmm?” When you part your lips to say ‘I like you too’, however, her tongue ties a knot on yours. You feel the pace suddenly upshift when she strokes your cock slowly and when you involuntarily moan and flinch. Your breaths overload your lungs while your mouth has totally fallen by what the intertwined tongues are doing inside.

“Minji… I-I like you too.” You didn’t mean to just whisper it. However it somehow did work as the cue to make her start pleasuring you with her hand. 

The smirk on her face is almost a burden to your already weary mind, topped with the anticipating lip bite. And those glaring, sly eyes which eventually force yours to squeeze shut. The sensation is too much for you to take in as it is, so your nails dig into your palms hard and your head tilts backwards. 

You don’t look comfortable at all—you aren’t, with all the unreal touches and heated breaths being poured on your skin. But that doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying this, of course. Her hand is pumping your cock at a constant rhythm, her groaning voice matches yours as if it’s as tantalizing to her as well.

“I’m glad you said that.” As if her confession was to be ignored by you. It was more of a seduction than a platonic confession to think about. Not that you can properly think while you’re getting mentally wrung by her. 

“You would’ve never known…” Minji slows down her hand around your throbbing cock. You open your eyes to be faced with her orbs mere inches away. 

Lust doesn’t seem to have dispersed from the jetty pair of pupils. “...how many times you relieved my stress from all the studying.” She continues her lewd confession of her sexual fantasies about you which could’ve been kept a secret… But what more to hide when you two are touching each other’s sex and mixing body fluids? 

When your fingers brush against her inner thighs, she hisses and tightens the grip on your cock. Nearing her core, you can feel the moist lust seeping out, leaking and running. 

“Do you think about me often too? Who am I to you?” You hesitate. But she doesn’t want any lies. Nor do you. 

“You’re just a… the model student of the school. A pretty one. A pretty, smart girl that I run into often.” You amazingly finish the sentence while riding off to the very edge of your patience under her bewitching strokes.

Just enough to feel incredibly heady but still seconds away from exploding on her hand. Your fingers aren’t idle either, as two of those smoothly enter her damp entrance. The tips of your fingers reach her toy inside and you pull it out slowly.

You see her belly flutter from the sensation of it. “Put your fingers in deeper,” She pleads as grinding herself on your fingers, situating you two in a mutual masturbation.

“I want to cum with you.” Her words trigger so many things inside you. Deeper and darker things, something the superficial you don’t possess. Something every guy would hide and keep deep under the surface and wait for the very chance to bring up.

Your fingers move, inside and out while hers move up and down. Both relentlessly, hungrily almost. The desire to see each other drown in bliss is paralleling the desire to feel it for oneself. You’re almost there, hoping that she is, too.

“Minji, I-I am… I can’t-“ You’re miserably stuttering, tongue twisted by how unblemished the sensation is from all sides—her soft hands working ever so hard and hot on the head of your cock, her lewd moans tickling your eardrums. Her face, that face making a look that just screams sex.

In no time you explode first, spurt after spurt in her hands as she still keeps on pumping it with pace. Your groan never dies down until you’re completely out of breath and strength.

Then Minji restarts grinding on your fingers that she stopped when you blasted the turbid pleasure on her fingers. You look up from her cum-coated fingers to her eyes, and it’s a head-spinning hypnosis that beams into your eyes from hers.

Dense, intense, a bit lethargic in a way and flooding with lust—seeing her crush cum in her very own hand, must’ve sent her into another galaxy at least, possibly another dimension. That is what sex can do even to a woman of high status.

“That was so hot. Now will you help me with this?” You already are when you’re snapped back from drifting off in the ocean of bliss. 

“I will.” You literally sigh words out as you still are trying to regain your breaths. You lay her down on the desks and crawl up to level with her face, fingers still making the dirty wet sound.

Minji’s face is a mess; it’s red, it’s sweaty, in need, desperate. Her eyes are fixed on your lips, her mouth agape, breathing into your face, it’s hot, her hands touching and squeezing her own breasts, her throat vibrates into your teeth and tongue when you kiss and bite it. And it happens to splash you all at once like a tsunami, but without the premonitory phenomena.

Kiss her neck, jawline and back to her lips. Her tongue welcomes yours, and after a few seconds she screams into your throat airily with her hands holding onto your shoulders.

“I’m close, I’m close, I’m-Oh!”

Hearing her you circle her clitoris with your thumb and it sends her away to bliss. To a heavenly abyss, where she doesn’t want to be bailed out. She’s squirting too, which makes it even hotter aside from her orgasming on your fingers. The watery sound makes you want to push into her even deeper.

You’re hard as rock again in no time after seeing the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, the least touchable girl in your school cum under your body on your own fingers. In school, in your classroom, on the table.

“Oh my god, is that your bag?” It’s a black backpack that her secretion is dripping onto. Minji is more entertained than concerned to your eyes however, and so are you. You wouldn’t mind if your iPad is broken from all the water for now.

“No, I don’t care. Mine is over there I guess.” You’re not sure, but not that you ever want to be. Because your eyes lock before hers darting at your cock on her above her belly. Then she looks into you again. And that’s it.

“Do you want to-“

“Yes.” It doesn’t even need any brainpower to say yes. So you take your agonizingly hard cock to her entrance. First you rub it against her pussy slowly, and it makes her let out a small gasp.

Her hands are on your arms, tightly gripping. Her eyes, they’re fixed at yours, her beauty beaming at you, and it flutters when your tip enters her hot cavern. Her fingers dig a little deeper into your arms, her teeth into her lip, as you enter her bit by bit.

It’s a whole new sensation to be wrapped around the wet walls. And considering that this is your first time, it’s not odd to be totally enraptured and indulge deep in straight away.

“Mmm…!” Your eyes roll back when you push in until you can’t. The world around you narrows down to only you two, hot breaths, sweaty skin and a mutual high that you never want to be detached from.

“G-go on, I’ll make you feel good.” As if you need any more motivation to dive in.

Minji’s coquettish smile is the last thing you see before you spontaneously shut your eyes and groan as you go deeper and deeper. You’re barely breathing, barely thinking, barely sensing anything.

“F-fuck me…”

Her shaking voice cooing those words is a complete switch-off to your reason. She said it shyly, with a burning face and big eyes looking up at you—it must be her first time to do this—and single-handedly sending shivers up your spine.

“Ah… Mmm yes!” You begin to move, and even to the slightest moves she reacts so sensitively. Her walls are wringing around your cock, pulsing and matching her intermittent moans as you gradually, tantalizingly raise the pace.

It’s as if time itself ceased running. Just you and Minji, feeling every part of each other, moaning against each other’s skin, a locomotive with a broken brake. Broken brake, but with a fully functioning accelerator.

As you up the pace her hands find your shoulders for support as yours roam around her torso. Her sharp shoulders, to her perky tits, brushing your thumb on her stomach randomly, overloading her with your touches. 

You lack subtlety and it’s even visible to yourself. Not knowing where to put your hands, not knowing what to say, only thrusting in and out and getting so worked up by hearing her moans and her face flooding with sex.

Eyes barely holding on, moans escaping her agape mouth along with her hot breaths, blushed cheeks. Her hands find the back of your head and pull you into a kiss, and it gives you the feeling of being possessed.

Like you’ve become hers.

Like you’re fucking her pussy and now kissing her with intertwined tongues for her, not for yourself. Which somehow, to your surprise, aggravates the lust deep inside you. A hidden need for the dynamics, even unseen to you.

Seems there will be plenty of time for you two to explore it further.

You go even faster in return for the kindling kiss she dragged you into. Her grip tightens, traps you in her arms—not that you ever want to escape—suffocating you with the sloppy lip lock.

And it throws a barrel of oil to your already-flaming fire. Your breath is completely taken by Minji, without any chance to get out, your will is rather on the side of dying with Kim Minji absorbing the last breath you have.

Soon her walls begin to pulsate around your cock, her screams that reverberate in your skull are now about to tip you over into unconsciousness.

“So good… I’m about to c-cum.” Her voice shakes. Your thrusts keep the pace, at a steady rhythm you’re pounding into her leaking pussy. The tightness goes up like crazy, her thighs lock your hips in and it makes you, forces you to discover her inside even deeper.

With every thrust Minji voices out how well your cock is stirring her inside. And the elevating tension in her moans lets you know how close she is to-

“Cumming…! Fuck!”

A trance. It is a frenzy, an ecstatic upheaval that overwhelms your patience, that demolishes the dam and lets whatever behind the wall flood in.

When her fingers dig painfully deep into your head, when her teeth leave an intaglio of her love, when her legs lock you in, for you to join her with the heady pleasure…

A streak of benumbing orgasm shatters your nerves as you paint her stomach and her heaving chest. It seems to never end, spurt after spurt until the repose is here. You can only stare at her—her still high face, cum-coated breasts and tummy heaving up and down.

You both are taking in the messed up view of each other, eyes locked but no words or signals delivered. You just stare into her eyes hoping that she makes a move on you first. To take you where she wants, perhaps. Another round could be awesome, but either way you’ll be so satisfied.

Together. With Minji.

“Let me bring something to clean-”

“No.”

Her hands snatch yours. Not strongly, but just soft enough to let you know what she means.

“Stay here for more… With me.”

******

“Hey. So… Can I ask you exactly when?”

Dark purple sky, humid breeze of midsummer. Clouds that showered the earth with their own bodies are now completely gone, and you and Minji are walking down the street towards the sunset.

“It was when you picked up my notebooks I dropped. You were putting on your headphones. Hair was just long enough to look good, and on top of everything… What I fell for was the smile on your face. I don’t remember the date it happened, but it was special. So special.”

Her fingers then sneak under your palm, in between your fingers and lock with yours together. It’s warm and soft. A romantic placidity under one of the most beautiful sunsets you’ve ever seen.

Her thumb lightly brushes on the back of your hand as you keep walking down the serene road. “But I don’t think you’ve wanted to do this since then, right? Not complaining, but it was quite an unexpected way of confession. Especially from you.”

Minji giggles with her crescent eyes looking down at the ground. “It’s been only weeks… I got so stressed out from studying and one day… I tried touching myself then I suddenly thought of you. Since that day, you know, it’s been like that.” 

But there’s no shyness anymore. It’s not a secret anymore, at least between you and her. Nothing is. Nothing will be.

It’s a hot thing to think about. A girl touching herself thinking about you. And that girl being Minji is what surpasses your imagination. She even got caught pleasuring herself in your classroom today-

Or even that was part of the plan. You think of asking her about it, but at the same time, you don’t want to make any gaffe come out of your mouth. Right now is where the tinge of romance should fade in, not that.

“You can, you know, call me honey… If you… want…” Minji’s grip on your hand gets tighter as her shy laughters follow. It immediately makes your face burn. You look at her and find that it’s doing the same to her too.

“Okay, Minji-I mean, honey.” You feel your face drumming to the beat of your heart. But it doesn’t hide the happy smile on your face.

A girlfriend.

And a boyfriend.

It’s mutual from now on. The first love in your life starts.

“It’s my home already.” She stops in front of a white two-story house and turns to you.

“Alright, goodbye, honey.” You let her hand go but it doesn’t leave yours. Instead, a zesty grin blooms on her face and she hums an airy chuckle.

“Not before this.”

Her lips find yours. They don’t open, but it’s a kiss filled with heartiness, a long peck, with an artificial smacking sound made by her.

“See you tomorrow honey!”

******

It is raining just like yesterday; you forgot your umbrella just like yesterday too. And you decide to stay at school until it stops.

As if you’re seeing a deja vu of yesterday.

Only if you could see a deja vu of yesterday.

Minji didn’t run into you today. She didn’t come to your class to say hi. She didn’t come to her class. 

She didn’t come to school today.

The day passed uneventfully just like yesterday. Class after class, lunch breaks and “see you tomorrow”s from classmates. But painfully, the only one who said it yesterday with a kiss wasn’t here to keep her words.

And the day ended just like that. No sign of Minji.

“You heard that?” Just before you put on your headphones, something penetrates your ears.

“Minji moved to New York!”

What?

You almost shouted but managed to deal with that.

First, it’s denial that hits you.

“What do you mean? I saw her just yesterday!” The other guy looks as confused as you are.

Second, the word ‘why’ comes up in your head. 

“I don’t know, man. Everything I heard was the teachers talking that there was a sudden incident that left no choice for her family but to move.”

Third, denial again.

You wanted to stand up and ask them, but what you are going to get is a weird look and a “Why do you even care?”

Didn’t she tell me ‘see you tomorrow’?

It’s all complicated for now.

Maybe you yourself are to blame for not asking your girlfriend’s number.

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

It was your first love, starting hot yet pure.

Now it’s as if all was a reverie.

The air you breathe hasn’t changed, the classes you attend were the same, it rained like yesterday, and your umbrella stayed at home again.

But there was no Minji, although you still hear her merrily say-

‘See you tomorrow, honey!’

******

[thatdyingacewhoneedstheirspace]

Yule Party 1969

It was the annual Malfoy Yule party and boy did they invite everyone, there where the obvious guests like the Lestranges, the Blacks and the Rosiers, but they also invited the Potters, the Longbottoms and the Crouches, plus the Bones and the Prewets and the Weasleys, just about every Pureblood family of any standing was there.

The decorations where the best of the best, this year’s theme being white and silver. The hall decorated with ice swans and peacocks, strings of silver tinsel, the ceiling enchanted to look like snow was falling, every table having cloth that shifted from silver to white depending on where you stood.

It wasn’t long before guests began to arrive the Rosier’s with their twins, the Lestranges with their boys, the Abbots, the Bones. Of course, when the Black’s decided to show they made sure to have a dramatic entrance Walburga and Orion Black turning heads with their admit deviance from the theme choosing to dress in their usual black and green, their two sons though had silver and white embroidery on their robes, Sirius having already rumpled them and Regulus mostly just hiding behind him. Druella and Cygnus Black only vaguely following the theme their daughters almost entirely not, Bellatrix wearing a black dress with a little white embroidery, Andromeda on the other had in a gorgeous white and silver gown, and Narcissa mixing the perfect amount of white and silver and black looking utterly stunning.

It wasn’t long until the Potters arrived of course they made much less of a fuss Fleamont came in with Euphemia on his arm occasionally glancing at her with a lovesick look on his face with James tailing behind them with his gravity defying hair, crooked glasses and massive grin.

You see the Malfoys planned everything perfectly having the more light aligned families on one side, the dark on the other, with the gray in the middle. They just had one fatal flaw in their plans, they forgot that some of these families have smaller children and included a chocolate fountain when they where decorating.

Once everything was settled and the adults where at least two glasses in (some more than that *cough* Orion *cough*) the kids slipped away from their parents young Andromeda placed herself near the fountain to keep an eye knowing full well that her troublesome cousin would soon be over there.

It wasn’t long before the Rosier twins, Barty Crouch Jr, the Black brothers, and young James Potter were gathered around the fountain, Sirius, James, and Barty all naturally wanted to catch the falling chocolate and where huddled close to the fountain.

“Sirius get down from there,” Andy scolded “you’re going to fall in”

“But chocolate” he protested

“Get the stuff that’s already fallen.”

Sirius and James shared a look.

“You know what never mind, I’m going to talk to Cissy if you fall in and get in trouble that’s on you” she said getting up and leaving.

The two boys now scrambling to get on the edge of the fountain to catch the chocolate, and Barty being the actual demon spawn he is decided to get behind them and push them in. James and Sirius landing in the chocolate with a splash causing the adults to look over.

Now Walburga Black and Euphemia Potter were making their way over here, Walburga looking furious to a point where steam could be coming out her ears, and Euphemia her face twisted in concern and worry for her son. Regulus and Pandora were working to pull the two boys out, of course not all that successfully due to Sirius and James constantly slipping back in.

Walburga grabbed her eldest son by his collar and yanked him out of the fountain, she was fuming practically threw him on the floor all but screaming at him telling him what an embarrassment he is and how he should know better. Euphemia on the other hand helped her son out and checked if he was alright glancing sadly over to Sirius and Regulus as Walburga shoved Regulus away when he tried to help Sirius stand.

[kinned-the-evil]

Welcome To The Blog! (Requests-Open)

Hello! Welcome to the revamp of my old blog @kining-the-evil . I made this new blog because my old one was a side blog and I was limited on what I could do without it being a main. I’ll make a master list on here of my old fics(I won’t be deleting the old blog) and move requests already in the inbox to this blog.

Warnings before continuing: I write 18+ situations like smut, am open to a lot of kinks, open to yandere/dark writing, and omegaverse. Everything will be properly tagged so if you don’t like any of this you can properly tagged it, and I’m open to adding any tags to help people avoid things they don’t want to see, but just know these themes will be on this blog.

Also, I am not one of those people who will refuse to reblog a post on politics and stuff, so be aware. I’m staunchly Leftist and if you are any of the following it would be best to avoid this blog: Zionist, antisemetic, homophobic, transphobic, turf, zenaphobic, misogynistic, pro!ICE/anti immigration, maga, pro!birth and just generally are a hateful person. I believe it is our duty to speak out when people are being mistreated and given how the world is going there is so much to speak out about. If you are going to argue, I will block you. If you try to use anon to argue or threaten I will turn that option off and no longer allow anon requests. I am beyond the point of arguing with people online when real work needs done.

Also also, if you are underage, while some of my content will be SFW, some will not be. Those works will be tagged 18 plus, please don’t read those and please don’t request 18+ content. This is to keep both of us safe in an online setting.

Old blog masterlist

This blogs masterlists

Tags to help you navigate/filter my content

Fandoms I currently write for-

Avengers(Movie)

Thunderbolts*(movie)

X-men(heavy mix of tv shows, comics, and a sprinkle of the movies)

Criminal Minds

The hunger games

House MD

Scream

DC(Very specific characters for now)

Below is the characters and situations I’ll write for on this blog

🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄

Characters I’ll Write for-

Avengers

Tony stark

Steve rogers

Natasha Romanoff

Bruce Banner

Wanda maximoff

Vision

Loki

Shuri

Sam Wilson

Thor

Thunderbolts*

Bucky Barnes

Yelena Belova(family relationship only)

Wyatt Russell

Bob Reynolds

Alexei Shostakov

X-men

Logan howlett

Wade Wilson

Scott summers

Rogue

Gambit

Mystique

Pietro maximoff

Morph

Storm

Charles Xavier

Magneto

Jean Grey

Criminal minds

Aaron hotchner

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Penelope Garcia

Emily prentiss

Jennifer jareau

David Rossi

The Hunger Games

Finnick odair

Johanna Mason

Haymitch Abernathy

Katniss Everdeen

Peta Mellark

Coriolanus Snow

Lucy Gray Baird

Sejanus Plinth

House MD

Greg House

James Wilson

Lisa Cuddy

Allison Cameron

Robert Chase

Thirteen

Eric Foreman

Scream

Stu Macher

Billy Loomis

Randy Meeks

Sydney Prescott

Dewey Riley

Tatum Riley

Chad Meeks-Martin

Mindy Meeks-Martin

Ethan Landry

DC

Bruce Wayne

Richard Grayson

Jason Todd

Tim Drake

Damian Wayne(Aged up for anything other then platonic/family)

Clark Kent

Lois Lane

Cassandra Cain

Stephanie Brown

Duke Thomas

Barbara Gorden

Jon Kent(Same as with Damian)

Situations I’ll Write For-

Fem!Reade, Male!reader, Nonbinary Reader

Plus size!reader

Pregnancy

Fluff

Angst

Smut

Parental bonds

Polyamory

I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO NOT WRITE ANY REQUEST THAT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE. IF I COME ACROSS THINGS I DECIDE I DON’T WANT TO WRITE I WILL STATE THAT AND ADD IT HERE

[sabraeal]

want your heart (to be for me), Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Ice skating, the more Nanami thinks about it, is a genius idea.

It’s date-worthy, for one; even before she ushers Jirou into line at the skate rental, the ice is packed with couples. Sure, the rink is right in the middle of a major metropolitan shopping district, but it’s all soft eyes and meaningful looks under the fairy lights; a winter wonderland made real by the magic of snow machines and mood lighting. And for two, there’s very little physical contact. Oh sure, there’s a little hand holding— it’s practically kissing, Ami would squeal, if she heard— but it’s all through gloves, no skin contact at all, and certainly nothing intimate. Not that there’s much magic left for her in that after being dragged hither and yon by every half-inconvenience kami; they don’t even think to ask anymore before they grab her. No, they just pinch their godly hand around her palm and pull her right through the veil or whatever. At this point, she probably has the most trafficked hands outside of a boardroom.

And for third, well— they don’t need to look at each other. Not that Jirou’s hard on the eyes, but— gosh, that’s half the problem, isn’t it? It’s one thing to see him on Kurama, monk’s robes and prayer beads and red eyeliner on point; there he's a kami through and through, as much a part of the mountain as the sakura tree. But here there’s no wings to distract her, no ritual cosmetics to keep her from seeing that he’s just…hot. Not idol-hot, the way Kur— ah, Shinjirou is, though she doubts a scout would say no to all one hundred and ninety plus centimeters of him, even with his scars. But…regular hot-guy hot. The kind that make a girl stop in the street to double take, wondering if someone could actually walk around looking that good.

The kind Nanami normally wouldn’t care to give the time of day, but well— most of them don’t keep sneaking glances at her when she’s not looking, or blushing every time their bodies bump in the pre-Christmas crowd. Boys like that aren’t affected by her, but this one, unfortunately, is. And it’s…distracting to say the least.

The line jostles forward, lodging her shoulder right under his armpit, face pressed right to the gray wool of his coat, and— really, where does Kurama find this stuff? Her own winter coat’s nice, calf-colored and a good size to cinch around her waist, but it still itches if she rubs it against her skin. This practically begs a girl to linger, to let her cheek rest a little longer, to maybe even long for a strong arm to wrap around her shoulders—

Nanami springs away, heat thundering up to her cheeks, pound of her heart nipping at its heels. Oh ho ho, no. She won’t be falling for any of Kurama’s tricks, thank you. Wouldn’t that be just like him, encouraging…canoodling through the strategic application of cashmere or whatever.

Jirou, however, hasn’t noticed. No, his attention is twisted over his shoulder, fixed to where couples idly circle the rink, eyes squinted and suspicious.

“Explain it to me again.” His heavy brows knot over the stern slope of his nose, uncertain. “We strap blades to our feet and attack the ice? And we do this for…entertainment?”

“It’s fun,” she assures him, resting a hand on that soft wool again; this time on the much more relationship-neutral sleeve area. “Have you really never gone skating? It seems like the sort of thing a bunch of boys would get up to after a couple hundred years.”

His shoulders heave, as casual a shrug as a mountain of a man like him can make. “It doesn’t snow on Kurama Mountain.”

A laugh sputters out of her; Mt Fuji already has its snow cap, and even if Kurama isn’t nearly as tall, it still gets more than its fair share of the stuff, especially this time of year—

But Jirou doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile, doesn’t show a hint of anything in his eyes besides that same steady earnestness she found below the temple. “How is that even possible? Didn’t Kifune just get a dusting last week? You guys should have…?”

Been romping around in the first snow of the season, that’s what she wants to say. But Jirou just stares down at her, the faintest hint of melancholy in the dark shadows of his eyes, and she knows: he lives in the spiritual realm. Sure, it might look like the rest of the mountain— the temple even sits right where Kuramadera does, pathways twisting right up along its sides— but it’s different. A place where a sakura tree can bloom year round, littering each tengu hatched beneath its branches with plush pink petals; children of its roots born into a world of eternal spring.

It doesn’t even have a pond, now that she thinks about it. Just a bunch of wells that probably don’t lead to real springs, but like, some weird spiritual equivalent, and— ugh, if she thinks about this any longer, her head is going to hurt.

“Well, don’t worry about it! It’s easy.” She puffs out her chest, giving it a prideful pat. “I’ll teach you.”

Tomoe would have scoffed— what could a human like you teach me, he’d say, every elegant movement of his hands perfect in a way she could only dream of being, when you’ve only just managed to stop banging sticks together. But Jirou—

Jirou’s breath catches in that cavernous chest of his, all the more obvious with clothes that cling to him the way these do, dark eyes gone so wide she can see the whites. “Land God, you honor me, but I hardly deserve your—”

It’s an Olympic level leap that claps her hands over his mouth before he can get warmed up enough to mention her divine attention, or, god forbid, start bowing.

“Shh! Shhhh! I told you not to call me that here. Just Nanami is fine!” She lowers from her trembling tip toe, her palm lingering over his lips for one moment— two moments, maybe— more. Just to make sure. He’d done just fine using her name in front of Kei, there was no need for any of this…Land God stuff out here right where normal people could hear them. “And it’s not a big deal, really! You taught me to fly, after all. It’s only fair.”

“You are already repaying me for my help with that task,” he reminds her, eyes narrowed. “That is why you consented to be my guide, is it not?”

“Ahh, yeah, but this is, um…part of it!” She lays her brightest smile on him; it’s her best hope for a distraction. Well, short of touching him in a real, purposeful way— not just this casual brush of hands over his sleeve or hands bumping together— and considering how he’d handled that beneath the temple, it risks a little too much collateral damage for her taste. “I can’t bring you here to do the very human pastime of ice skating if you can’t skate, can I?”

His mouth pulls thin, considering her point.

“I suppose.” The fight seeps from the firm line of his shoulders. “So long as it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Oh come on,” she laughs, waving a hand. “What could go wrong?”

*

In retrospect, the warning signs — omens, Mizuki would have called them, tooting on his stupid flute— present themselves early. The guy manning the skate rental, for one, who took a good look at Jiro’s two meters plus and muttered, “I’ll have to check what they have in the back.”

The skate laces for another, which is a surprise to say the least.

“But you’ve worn kimono before,” Nanami reminds him, his pale scars standing out more starkly from the deep pink of his skin. “It’s the same principle. Just like…on your feet!”

“I grasp the fundamentals.” She kneels in front of the bench, his knees brushing her shoulders, and Jiro wrenches his chin to the side, the slightest strain in his voice when he adds, “It’s the practical application that confounds me.”

“You were wearing boots, weren’t you?” she huffs, sitting back on her heels. “Didn’t you have to tie those yourself?”

“Shinjirou—”

His teeth snap shut with a clack, and ah, for all of Kurama’s complaining over hosting his grim onii-san, even trying to extract a date of his own out of her as compensation— that wild fox would eat his own tail, wouldn’t he? he hummed, too intrigued with the idea for any interest to be leftover for her— he’d put this all together himself. The soft coat, the perfectly tailored jeans, even getting down on his own knees to tie his bootlaces— Kurama had put effort into this.

“All right, well, pay attention, okay?” He glances down, cheeks red as she crosses his laces tight. “The bunny runs around the tree, and goes into the hole…”

*

It’s not until she gets him out onto the ice, however, that the shape of her mistake really starts to show itself.

“Um, Jirou?” She peeks out from around his elbow, watching the bulky muscle in his jaw flex. “You’ll have to actually…get out the gate to skate.”

“I don’t know how,” he informs her, knuckles white where he clutches either side of the wall. “Am I supposed to follow a…current of some kind?”

Nanami watches the couples meander past like leaves traveling through a gentle stream, and well, there’s worse metaphors, she supposes. “That’s not a bad way to think of it. Everyone is traveling in the same direction, but you kinda have to move on your own.”

“How?”

It’s practically a growl, and from a chest like his, it should be intimidating, the sort of thing that sends shivers down her spine. But instead Nanami bites back a giggle, and informs him, “One skate at a time!”

“So I have assumed. But how am I supposed to—”

“I’ll show you,” she promises, sliding off her guards. “But you have to let me on the ice first.”

“I’m trying—”

Her hands press to his back, and even through the wool of his coat, she feels his breath stutter, the bluster snuffed right out of him.

“Maybe,” she grunts, tensing her muscles. “You should try harder—”

On solid ground, she’d have no hope of moving him— he’s head and shoulders taller, for one, and used to standing his ground against fledglings her size for another— but with both blades firmly on the ice, he slides forward, arms flailing out to grab something, anything—

Until he falls face-first onto the rink.

“All right,” she coughs. “Let’s, um, try that again.”

*

It’s a trial to get him upright; maybe one of his other brothers might have been more help, if only because they're stronger, and— much as she hated to admit it— much, much taller. But between her middling height and his inclination to treat the ice like a cat does a bath, well…

“What if you just hold on to me for now?” It’d be easier to keep him steady closer to the rail, but between her lucky push and both their flailing, it’s a trek they’re unlikely to make. At least with all these other skaters between them and the wall. “Once you get some momentum, it’ll be easier to start moving, you know?”

“I think,” he sniffs, stiff as a board beside her, “I have experienced enough momentum for a lifetime.”

“Good thing you’ve got several to go then, huh?” She grins, even in the face of his withering stare. “Come on, ‘fall down seven times, get up eight,’ right? You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

“I have no interest in falling down seven times,” he informs her. “The once was enough.”

“No, no, you got it now, I can tell. Here”— her hand wraps around his, palm hotter than those drug store hand warmers even through his gloves— “just let me pull you a little.”

“N-no, I”— there’s not so much words but noises as she squeezes, and all of them are negative— “don’t…”

Nanami hasn’t gotten this far listening to kami that tell her no, and she’s not about to start now. Botanmaru and the other little tengu might have quivered under Jirou’s glare, but she only grins.

“Come on, just a little— there we go!” Her own skates catch under her, the energy she’s putting in finally equal to the energy he’s putting out, tipping their momentum from a standstill to a gentle— albeit wobbly— glide. “You’re moving!”

Jirou might be the size of a man— larger than one, really, one of the tallest ones she’s seen on or off Kurama Mountain— and his legs might not shake beneath him, but just like every other kid’s first time on the ice, they widen, nearly tipping him right over before he catches himself. One skate stamps on the ice before it smooths to a glide, dragging the other behind. He doesn’t get far before he nearly overbalances again, struggling to get the other foot beneath him, to stand the way he might on solid ground, but—

But he does it, this time pushing off the leg the way he’s supposed to, weight a little too much on the inside to get him much farther than a few stuttering slides. There’s a light in his eyes though, a spark of interest, a puzzle halfway solved. It’s easier for him to get the next foot beneath him, then the next, falling into a toddling rhythm of step-skate, step-skate, and—

And he smiles. Not one of those nasty little sneers he wore when he got one over on Kurama or one of his other brothers, or the shy tight-lipped smile he would give her when they spoke, but— victorious. Joyful and dangerous all at once; the sort of grin generals must have gotten in ancient times when the battle was won and they could start looking forward to the spoils.

It’s not until his eyes lock on her, dark and focused in a way that makes her breath catch, that she remembers: she’s the only prize on the ice worth taking. At least to him.

It should be terrifying— he’s so much bigger than her, a kami in all the ways that count instead of just in name, and she’d seen the cruelty he’s capable of, given the right incentive. But the shiver that runs through her is a promise instead of a plea, growing warm-- no, hot as he straightens, approaching her not with a bird’s grace but a predator’s slow prowl.

Maybe this is the reason for all of Kurama’s rules; that laundry list of no-nos the Soujoubou has posted up in every brother's heart. It wasn’t the tengu who found themselves distracted by the mortal woman at the foot of the mountain, but the village women seeing J-Pop idol faces and shoulders used to bearing wings large enough for a man to take flight, and just thinking, what do the guys got around here that can compete with this?

He’s close enough to loom now, extended to almost his full height, and oh, if he just unfurled his wings this would be like one of those book covers she sees in the store, dangerous and divine all at once. And then his eyes widen, her only warning before he completely overbalances the other way, sprawling ass-first on the ice— and with her hand still locked in his, taking her with him.

“Ow,” is the first thing she thinks to say, followed by, “Oh, no!”

It requires a little wriggling to get an arm free, the ice seeping through the fleece-lined stretch of her tights as she rolls up onto her knees. “Are you alright? It doesn’t hurt too much does it?”

“It will take more than that to harm a tengu of Kurama Mountain,” he informs her, sitting upright— fast enough that she nearly spills back into the ice. But one of his hands shoots out, steadying her, and she settles onto her heels instead. “You, however, are only human.”

Another girl might shrink under the measuring stare he turns to her, quailing under the narrow angle of his skepticism, but Nanami only waves him off with a laugh. “I’m fine. Really! I’m made tougher than I look, okay!”

He grunts, unconvinced, but at least he doesn’t start fussing the way Tomoe would, checking bones and joints for the smallest twinge of pain. Instead he just sits there, staring, and—

Oh, she’s…she’s right between his knees. Kneeling there, having a whole conversation, when he’s only…

“Maybe skating was a bad idea.” The words all fall out of her in a jumble; she hardly even knows she’s said anything— like really said anything, not just thrown up some word salad— until Jirou’s eyebrows furrow. “It was silly to think you’d pick up on it the first time you tried. I’m not even that good at it either! It's like the blind leading the blind in here, right? If you’re getting tired of this, we can just go back and—”

“What do you mean ‘if I’m getting tired of this?’” He bares his teeth, surveying the rink with all the eagerness of a kid half his age. Well, half the age he looks, anyway. “I’m only just starting to get good at it.”

There’s no production when he stands now, skates staying right where he puts them.

“Come, Nanami.” He holds out his hand, that grin aimed directly at her, way too dangerous. “What was it you said? We have only fallen down twice, which means there are five more times to go.”

“That’s not what that means,” she says, but she’s already getting to her feet. “But sure. Falling five more times seems like a plan.”

*

Jirou might have promised falling down, but in the half hour since he’d given her a hand up, he hasn’t done it once. He just watches a few of the better skaters glide past, and in no time he’s speeding around the rink, spraying ice as he pulls to a stop beside her, the little shavings melting the instant they touch her tights.

“I must admit,” he says, watching where she idles against the railing, thighs already burning from her few shaky passes around the rink. “When you first proposed this ice skating, I did not quite understand the appeal. But now I see— it’s the closest these frail mortal bodies of yours can come to flying.”

It’s tempting to put him in his place, to tell him about airplanes, or skydiving or parasailing or any of the half dozen ways all these frail mortals have found to bring themselves a little closer to the sky, but instead she goes with, “So you like it?”

This is where Tomoe would fumble, would trip over himself to deny anything of the sort; it was natural for a yokai like him to excel in any human endeavor, but another thing entirely to enjoy it. So when Jirou turns to her, smile all victory and teeth, she’s unprepared for his enthusiastic, “Yes!”

Her jaw smacks her scarf, but there’s no time for her to recover, for her to even wrap her mouth around a shocked oh before he’s holding his hand out to her. “Would you do me the honor of joining me?”

It’s gloved of course, supple leather clinging to every contour of his knuckles, hand-picked by Kurama to fit like a— er, well, glove. They would have to be, after all; Jirou doesn’t come in a size that’s off the rack. Nanami might not be tall for a girl, but she’s not small either, and yet when she’d tried to wrap her hands around his earlier, her thumbs and fingers hadn’t even come close to touching, like a little girl trying to hold her dad’s hand—

“Nanami?”

Oh gosh, she’s staring. At his hand. “Y-yeah!”

The night might be cold, but Jirou’s hands are warm. Seriously warm, even with the layers of leather and cloth knit between them. She’d known that, of course— how could she not, when he’d had to catch her time after time those first few days at Kurama. Her new wings had been weak as a hatchling’s when they’d first grown, feathers patchy in places and grown in at odd angles, and though she’d been happy enough to fling herself from the highest outcroppings, the wind wouldn’t catch her the way it was supposed to. Wouldn’t hold her the way the other tengu told her came naturally.

And so it was Jirou who would scoop her out of her falls, stomach swooping with the sudden stop, patient in a way she hadn’t seen during that first visit with Botanmaru. Even with all the other tengu whooping and hollering— encouragement for her, and heckling for their former Soujoubou— he’d kept putting her on solid ground and telling her, give it a moment before you try it again.

She hadn’t of course, but, well, time was of the essence. Tomoe had been waiting for her.

Fat load of good that’d been in the end. Maybe she should have left him with his sky princess. At least then he wouldn’t be mad at her anymore.

“Nanami.” Her name rumbles out of him, concerned. “If you do not pay attention to what is in front of you, you’ll stumble once again.”

It’s kind of stupid how quickly he's picked all this skating stuff up-- some real godly bullshit, honestly. If she wasn't enjoying herself so much, she might start taking it personally that this being-naturally-good-at-stuff thing never seems to happen to her.

“Oh!” She shakes herself, tracing leather-gloved hand to woolen sleeve to furrowed brow, and— and it’s strange how Jirou doesn’t look away, doesn’t pretend he’s not concerned for her at all. How he doesn’t tell her to hurry up and pay attention, but lets them coast until she does. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to apologize to me.” The serious line of his mouth hooks at a corner, and he squeezes her hand. “I am not some weak human. I have all the time in the world.”

For you. He doesn’t say it, but somehow his eyes do, right before he turns them back to the ice, guiding her around the corner. I have all the time in the world for you.

*

“So what next?” Nanami flops down onto the bench, thighs already burning. Hopefully Kei’s apartment has one of those fancy baths, the ones with all the jets and stuff, otherwise she’ll be all aches in the morning. “We’ve done shopping, ice skating…any other human stuff you’ve been dying to do?”

“I believe that is up to you.” Jirou does much better untying his skates than he did tying them; with only a few tugs he has both sitting on the bench beside him, socked feet hovering uncertain above the pavement before he reaches for his boots. It seems cold concrete is too much even for yokai— or kami, or whatever the tengu considered themselves. “You are my guide, are you not?”

“Well, yeah.” Her shoes are easy to handle— just little boots that zip up the side, heels giving her an extra couple of centimeters, enough to at least give his shoulder a run for its money. But Jirou is used to tabi and wara-zori, stuff he can just slip on his feet and forget about, so of course Kurama’s settled him with a pair of boots that require strategy to get on and off. When he settles his boots in front of him, it’s clear he doesn’t know where to start. “But this is your first time down here. I figure I can take requests.”

“That is kind of you, Nanami.” It’s funny to watch his feet flex, uncertain, before he grits his teeth and shoves one of them down past the laces. Kurama could have been kinder when he selected these from whatever fancy Big & Tall section he found; there had to have been ones that pulled on or zipped up instead of laced, jack boot style. “But I trust your guidance. That is why I asked you to take me, and not Shinjirou.”

It doesn’t take much to imagine what sort of tortures Kurama would inflict on his least favorite brother: crowds and concerts and high class clubs with VIP rooms— or, if he was feeling particularly perverse, maybe even karaoke. A dream for any one of his fan club, for sure, but an expertly curated nightmare for the former fourth Soujoubou.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Nanami leans back on her hands, the metallic chill of the bench biting through her gloves. “I am starting to get hungry. Maybe we should go and get some din—”

Her teeth clamp hard around that last syllable. Dinner. It’s a definite date activity, for sure; one that would really double down on the good time she intended to show him, but—

But she hadn’t meant for this to be a date, not when she agreed to this whole tour guide thing. It was just supposed to be an outing, the kind friends did when they had nothing better to do on their day off. Just because Mizuki said that Jirou thought they were on one doesn’t mean she actually has to follow through— or that she should. After all, what would Tomoe think when he came back? She wouldn’t keep something like this from him— not when Mizuki would be so quick to inform him of his new position as persona non grata, no longer needed now that Nanami would clearly be packing her bags for Kyoto soon. And then she’d have to explain herself, like always, and she’s pretty sure I went on a date by accident because I have a real fear of disappointing people wouldn’t be as compelling explanation for a fox who lived by the motto of act first, laugh at the idea of permission later.

“Nanami.” It’s gruff, the way he says it, as stilted as the line of his shoulders. “You seem…uncomfortable.”

“M-me? No, No.” She shakes her head way, way too hard. “I’m not, really. I just…”

Am already tired of dealing with a problem that hasn’t even happened yet. No way she can say that either; she may not be able to see Mizuki, but she’s certain those words would wend their way back to Tomoe’s ears somehow.

Jirou stares at her, frown as furrowed as his brow. “We do not have to continue if this is not an enjoyable encounter for you. You have more than fulfilled your end of the bargain, there is no need to—”

“No!” Ah, she hadn’t meant to shout— and hadn’t meant to grab him either, but here she is with a death grip on his sleeve. “No, I’m…I’m having fun, really. Loads. Honestly, this is the most fun I’ve had since…”

Gosh, it’s embarrassing that she can’t even remember. The past few weeks have just been one crisis after another, blurring together into one endless bad time that stretches infinitely forward and back.

“A while,” she finishes, lamely. By the skeptical look Jirou slant at her, he’s not convinced.

“If you are concerned about injury to my feelings”— his voice may be gentle, but every part of him is braced, waiting for impact— “you may take heart in the fact that I would prefer a small discomfort on my part, rather than pain on yours.”

“I’m not uncomfortable! I’m having a really good time!” She huffs, her breath ruffling the hair that’s fallen out from where she’d parted it. “It’s just…”

He turns to her, boots on but still untied— it’d be a look if Kurama did it, and Jirou’s nearly handsome enough to pull it off too— and simply…waits. Just stares at her, all the intensity that stole him the Soujoubou’s seat now directed at her.

She doesn’t mean to say anything, really— at least nothing important— but those dark eyes fix on her, just her, and she blurts out, “Doesn’t this feel like a date or something?”

He blinks, long and slow, before saying, “I’m not sure I would know.”

Of course not; he’s never even been off the mountain before. Had barely known women existed until she traipsed onto the mountain, trying to fix all of Botanmaru’s problems. And here she is, worrying that he’s thinking about dates, that he might even be disappointed if she didn’t perform one to his exacting standards, and—

“But I was hoping it would be.”

Her jaw jostles from how hard it drops. “E-excuse me?”

“Please do not misunderstand. I would never presume that you meant for this to be anything more than a favor to a fellow god.” His arms fold over the wide expanse of his chest, eyes closed and turned from her. “It is simply…just as crows cannot change their color, a man cannot change what his heart desires.”

The air in her lungs is entirely too thin to manage more than a soft, “Oh.”

“You need not worry, I have no expectation of my hopes being fulfilled in that regard. My brother has already happily forewarned me that you were still wasting your time with that wild fox. My only wish was to see the world you belonged to, and”—for all the stern lines he’s structured his frown around, it does nothing to hide the pink that seeps into the tips of his ears, or at the highest parts of his cheeks— “why you loved it. I was simply…curious as to why you would choose to live here, rather than on Kurama Mountain. I am sorry if my intentions seemed…unclear.”

“No, that’s…they were clear.” Provide you were looking, and that you weren’t an idiot. Both things Nanami missed the mark on. “And this isn’t just some favor to a fellow god. This is a favor to a friend.”

He blinks. “…Friend?”

“Yeah, one who helped me when I don’t think they really wanted to.” By the rueful grin he tries to hide behind his coat collar, she's not wrong. “And I think…”

She swallows, gathering her courage. “I think it would be fine, if this was a date. Not a real one of course!” she hurries to clear up as his wide eyes dart toward her. Tomoe might not be able to admit he wants to date her himself, but there’s not a doubt in Nanami’s mind over just how well he’d take the information that she’d been out on a date with some other god. “More like…a demonstration. A, er, practice date.”

A stormy little knot ties itself right above Jirou’s nose. “Practice…date?”

“Right.” She nods, as if that might lend this an air of authenticity. Or intelligence. “So you know what to expect when you go on a real date.”

“Ah.” His teeth flash in a quiet sort of humor. “Of course. A…real date.”

It’s her turn to frown, now. “Is there something wrong?”

“No.” He fixes her with that singular attention again, and really, this guy needs to meet another girl, if only so that someone gets to take advantage of all this tengu intensity. “If that is an amenable solution to you, then I have no complaints.”

“Great!” She claps her hands together, pleased. “So is there anywhere you want to go? Now that we’re on a date, I mean.”

He tilts his head, considering the question. More than it really warrants, in her opinion, but Jirou’s not the sort of guy to take things easy. “You mentioned you were hungry, did you not?”

“Oh, yeah!” She leans toward him on the bench, grinning. “You know, dinner’s a pretty common thing to do on a date. Looking for anything in particular.”

“I must admit…” His gaze shifts, embarrassed. “I am curious about these donuts you once spoke of.”

“Donuts?”

“Mamorinogami once traded you his Peach Elixir for a taste of one, did he not?” His cheeks might still be red, but Jirou turns to her, stretching every last centimeter to loom over her. “They seem to be a worthy meal, even if they were made by human hands.”

“Ah…right.” No need to tell him it was actually a meat bun, made to taste like a donut. That's another one of those little things she doesn't need making it into godly ears. Gossips, the whole lot of them. “Donuts for dinner it is!”

[ark-inkweaving]

Writing Patterns Tag

thanks so much @aalinaaaaaa for the tag!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 or so stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

wow, 20 stories is a lot. i had to squeeze everything i've ever posted here and it still wasn't enough. i really should put more short stuff here lmao

i am going to say in advance, every story is linked to the post, save of course the opening lines to EttDS and IDWT(N). and also, the last one is the intro line to an old piece i posted with an itty bitty hint to a plot twist for Revolve. nothing really major, but something funny for the more puzzle oriented people :3

i'm tagging @write-with-will @nandawrites @lizardperson and @elkieselkiewrites plus open tag

— ❊ —

In The Spotlight Dajsper is halfway through xir makeup when NYSDU beeps from xir earring.

Torrential Zeno will have to ask Ike's dad to teach him how the hell he drives, because it's a miracle that he can keep the car straight enough that he can read despite all the water on the roads and wind that howls so strong it may as well be yelling.

Grayed Out Leo's thoughts as the blurry flickering gray creature in front of him throws him at the little altar are a jumbled mess.

Beneath They say there's a monster beneath the mountains.

The Silence In-Between Niev is not beyond admitting that ice shoots through his heart when Mora harriedly knocks at the door to Lukiat's study, words spilling out of her mouth in a garbled cascade.

Dandelion (In A Concrete Prison) The first time it happens, vie isn't sure what's going on.

No More Than This The lights of the ballroom flicker and glimmer with golden opulence. So bright that they outshine the stars outside.

Wildfires The dark curtain of clouds casts muffled silence over the city, so thick it even blocks out the moon.

Moonstone, Opal, Rhodonite Dani is awfully small, curled up and tucked into Aleji's side.

A Ship Writing Ask Zeno hesitates at the mouth of the street to Ike’s house, with midnight rain racing in rivulets down his skin.

OCKiss25 Day 7 - Caught It should have been a quiet day.

OCKiss25 Day 6 - Forbidden Zeno will never understand how the De la Rosa-Marchesi are so… comfortable with his presence.

OCKiss25 Day 5 - Worship Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to leave the window open.

OCKiss25 Day 4 - Reunion Aren's breath is still coming in short puffs when he touches the ground by the altar.

OCKiss25 Day 3 - Stolen There’s faint rustling from her kitchen when Beriel wakes up.

OCKiss25 Day 2 - First Aleji is not so focused on what they’re doing that they don’t hear the steps coming closer to their room.

OCKiss25 Day 1 - Desperate More guards, dead eyed and flickering, rush into the alcove.

Elegy to the Desperate Stars There are no stars that shine over Milan.

In Destiny We Trust Not Smog and humidity weigh heavy in the air and cling to the skin, pervasive in the summer heat that's growing torrid.

?? pov: you are a god's host.

— ❊ —

it appears i have a preference for starting with short sentences. a solid statement that sometimes evokes a feeling. the longer ones definitely evoke a feeling. but they're also very still? in a sense?

i'll be honest, i thought more of them would have some lyricism. it might just be more self-contained to Aira's pov, which i really don't post enough of, but i really got caught off-guard

as for my favorite, i'm sorry but it has to be the EttDS opening line. it's both an amazing opener and an inside joke with my friends, and that immediately skyrockets it to first place

❊

✵ Revolve Taglist ✵ @corinneglass @aalinaaaaaa @write-with-will @mymomsaysbobcipher @writeintrees

⛧ In Destiny We Trust (Not) Taglist ⛧ @elkieselkiewrites @wildweeds @mymomsaysbobcipher

[ladylooch]

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 25

A/N: I will finish blurbs from last week at some point... but I'm in a very mehhh place and it's hard for me to be creative when I'm there. So... in the meantime, here is more Sam and Kev.

Word Count: 4.1k

“Babe.” Kevin whispers to me. I can feel the weight of him lightly pressing into my body from above. His elbows prop his weight mostly over me and his minty breath dances over my face. “Wake up.”

“Kev. I’m trying to sleep.” I groan, keeping my eyes closed. I reach my right hand up, feeling for his face so I can push him away from me. He dodges my hand and places insistent kisses vertically down my face, starting at my forehead and ending on my chin. I pop one eye open to look at him, drinking in his sexy face. Damn, maybe I will get up. He wiggles his thick eyebrows at me.

“I have planned out the perfect day. But for it to start, you need to get up.” I look over at the clock, scowling because it’s barely past 8:00 in the morning.

“This is grounds for divorce.” I snip, throwing my pillow at him. He shoves it to the side and grabs my hands, pulling me into a sitting position.

“Too late. We already submitted my green card application.” He jokes, a charming grin stretching his lips apart.

“Oh, well in that case.” I roll my eyes at him. “Does this day involve coffee?”

“Yep! We are starting our date with Iced Caramel Lattes from In the Loop. I hear they have chocolate croissants today too.” I bolt up, throwing the comforter to the side.

“Don’t need to tell me anything else.” I bounce to our bathroom, throwing the shower on.

Kevin’s laughter follows me into the shower. I scrub at my body, making it quick because the breakfast he has planned for us is that good. Afterwards, I dust my face with a little bit of make up, just enough to feel presentable. I head to our closet to change. Kevin has long since disappeared into the living room. I pull on a pair of light wash, denim shorts and a plain, mauve-ish pink shirt. I shove my feet into my gray and pastel pink Nikes. I figure this is versatile enough for anything he has planned. I finish the look with my diamond studs, then rush to the other side of the bed to replace my wedding rings on my finger.

I go to the full length mirror in our closet, double checking that I’m satisfied with how I look. I nod and grab my black, cross-body Kate Spade purse, tossing it carelessly over my shoulders. When I step out into the main area of our apartment, I immediately sense Matt Boldy’s presence. As I get closer, I can see him and Kevin playing FIFA on his Xbox. My steps slow, wondering how this impacts how quickly I’ll be getting my coffee.

“Fuck!” Kevin yells as Matt scores. The younger Wild star makes his virtual player run around the field like an airplane to celebrate.

“Gotta be faster than that, Kev.” Matt snickers, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Sam!” He shouts in excitement, getting up and wrapping me into a tight squeeze.

“Matty! Thought you were in Boston?” I question him, giving his back a quick rub during our hug.

“I was. I came back to sign my lease here and move my stuff out of Greener’s place.”

Matt had been living with Jordan Greenway for the last half of the season, but Jordan has a serious girlfriend now and has started kicking out all of his roommates. Plus, Matt is in a secure enough position with the team that he can afford to find his own place. When he asked Kevin what we thought of our building, Kevin encouraged him to come see for himself. He stayed with us for a few days at the end of the season then flew home to Boston. By the time he left, the on-ice chemistry created a tight off-ice bond between the three of us. Matt couldn’t attend our wedding in Switzerland, but we have been FaceTiming with him at least once a week this summer.

“Oh great! What floor are you on?”

“Twelve.” He grins at me.

“Fitting.” I nod my head. “Do you need help moving?”

“Nah, I hired some guys. They are just finishing up so I better get back to them. Thanks for the confidence boost, Kev.” Matt walks over to bump fists with him as Kevin shakes his head.

“That fucking kid.” He mutters to me once Matt has exited the apartment, but not before one last squeeze for me. “Ready?”

“You betchya!” I say in my most intense Minnesotan accent. He laughs at me, placing his hand on the small of my back.

“You look sexy. I love your ass in these shorts.”

“Um, bedroom?” I turn immediately, shoving at his chest to push him back towards our room.

“Okay, but quick.” He grabs at my hips. He pulls me flush with him and I feel his erection growing against my stomach. “I’ve got a lot of fun planned for us today.”

“Great. I think you fucking me speechless sounds like a pretty fun start.” _ _ _

The theme for the day is all our favorite things in Minnesota.

Earlier this month, Kevin and I returned to Minnesota after a brief honeymoon in Italy. Kevin’s contract negotiations with the Wild are still ongoing and seemingly picking up speed, but nothing has been solidified. After our honeymoon of bliss, our first order of business was securing Kevin permanent residency status in the Unites States. Kevin’s visa has always depended on being under an existing NHL contract, but now that he is married to an American, we can be done with the yearly applications. In order to get the paperwork and interviews completed, we decided to spend a majority of the summer in Minnesota rather than Europe. We are hoping to be returning to Sweden before the season begins, but only if we can get everything finished in a reasonable timeframe.

We start in the North Loop neighborhood of Minneapolis with a breakfast full of decadent coffee and chocolate croissants. Once we are full, we move on to a stroll around Lake Harriet. We walk casually hand in hand, enjoying the warm summer sun. Several people stop Kevin along the way, asking for autographs and pictures. Each time he gives me an apologetic look, but I love watching him interact with fans. The genuine joy they have seeing him for a moment fills my heart.

From there, we find ourselves at Wakame in the Uptown neighborhood, devouring sushi rolls until we almost have to be rolled out of there. Pun completely intended. After that, we drive back to our apartment to drop off Kevin’s car. We spend a good chunk of the afternoon wandering the area by the Stone Arch bridge, taking in the scenes of Minneapolis on a crystal, clear day.

After that, we get tired, heading back to our apartment to take a break, lazily running our hands over each other until we drifted to sleep. When we awaken, we change and freshen up for a fancy night in our city. We head to the Prohibition Bar to take in higher views of Minneapolis. We each enjoy two drinks then find ourselves at Manny’s Steakhouse for a decadent dinner.

“I think I gained five pounds today.” I say to Kevin as I push the rest of the chocolate cake completely to his side of the table. His eyes sparkle excitedly.

“More for me to hold onto when we fuck.” He shrugs, sliding the fork through his lips. “This cake is so good. It might beat Princess Cake.” I gasp.

“No!"

“Yes.” He is dead serious as he looks me in the eye.

“I won’t tell.” I swipe a finger across my lips then lean back into the cushion of the booth. I exhale heavily, feeling happy and full after our day of fun. “Thank you for a fun day.” I say as he devours the last bite of cake.

“We aren’t done yet.”

“What?” I raise my eyebrows surprised. “Babe, I cannot eat or drink one more thing.” I place my hand on my stomach for emphasis. “It’s a good thing I changed into a dress. The button on my shorts would have popped off already.”

“It doesn’t involve anything else to eat.” He assures me. “But it is a bit of a drive, so we should get going.” He tosses his credit card onto the table.

Ten minutes later, we are in the car heading east towards St. Paul from Minneapolis. Kevin reaches for my hand as we pass the Xcel Energy Center on our right, continuing on to the Eastern suburbs. Our car ride is mostly silent, but comfortable. I resist the urge to ask what is next, knowing he’s planned this much fun, whatever he has left will likely be too.

A few more twists and turns off the highway lead us to an empty lot in the city of Woodbury. My eyes scan the area, taking in the relatively private space. Large trees hide the lot from the road and the driveway is dirt. The closest houses are well in the distance and the land looks leveled, ready for whatever is planned to sit atop of it. Kevin unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to me, taking in my reaction. I think I know why we are here, but I turn, waiting for him to speak.

“This past month of marriage has been the best month of my life. I love you. And I’ve loved living in the city with you the last few years. But… I think it’s time for us to put some roots down.” I nod my head in agreement. “So, I reached out to a relator a few of the guys have used and he sent me this listing. I haven’t seen it yet, but he was willing to keep it off the market for me until we could come by.”

“Okay.” I nod, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the door.

“He has a contractor who has helped build a few other athlete’s houses out here over the years. They have tons of different layouts and styles we can pick from along with a staff of designers to help with the smaller details. Basically, we can build anything that we want here.”

We walk around the car, meeting in the middle to lace our fingers together. Slowly, we walk along the land. Because it’s mid-summer, the sun is still up and it highlights the features of the lot well. It’s sizable, but unlike most new builds, it has older trees lining the area, providing much needed privacy.

“There were some other spaces west of the cities, but this is close to TRIA and the X along with your family.” I nod, continuing to take it in.

“I like this area.” I confirm, stopping to stand in the middle. “If we built facing this way, we would get a great view of the sunset and sunrise. The home would be bright and sunny.”

“It would make up for leaving our balcony.” He muses as me. “But, you could have your own coffee bar and the built ins you’re always looking at on Pinterest.”

A huge grin breaks out on my face and I shiver excitedly. A home of our own, that we get to build exactly how we want. It’s an opportunity I’m grateful to have presented to me right now.

“Picture this: a big kitchen, with one of those obnoxiously large islands, and five bedrooms so our three babies can have their own rooms. I don’t know how many, but a reasonable amount of bathrooms.” His arms are spread wide, gesturing to the whole lot.

“Yeah?” I laugh, looking around at the empty lot. “Oh! We need a big, bonfire pit and a deck. And! We could line the yard with those outdoor string lights too.”

“Deal. Anything you can dream up, we’ll make it happen.”

“Yay!” I bounce excitedly, spinning around in the dirt. A realization washes over me and the smile slowly falls off my face. If we build the house of our dreams here, how much harder does that make it to leave Minnesota? Plus, we might not even be here anymore when it’s done being built. “Except, maybe we should wait.” I say, turning back to him. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his shorts and the grin on his lips is obviously hiding something from me.

“Why?” He wonders, tilting his head to the side. His eyes are beginning to sparkle and I lower my eyebrows in confusion.

“You know something.” I narrow my green eyes at him accusingly.

“Why shouldn’t we do this?” He reiterates, swaying from foot to foot like he can barely contain what he wants to tell me. The excitement is building in me and I start laughing, which causes Kevin to start laughing. Then I’m bouncing up and down.

“Tell me!!!” I yell at him, bending over with my hands on my knees.

“We’re staying in Minnesota!” He rushes towards me, gathering me into his arms by my waist and twirling us around. I tilt my head back to the sky and scream in happiness. I can feel myself losing my balance, so I throw my arms around his head to secure myself to him.

“Are you serious!? When did you sign!?”

“I am signing tomorrow, but it’s a done deal.”

“Oh my god!!” I squeeze myself to his chest in a tight hug that steals my breath. I vibrate against him, tears building in my eyes. “How long? How much?”

“7 years, 7.8 million per year.”

“Baby! I’m so proud of you.” I cover his lips with mine in a desperate, sloppy kiss. “Look at you! All your dreams are coming true.” I pull back to look into his eyes becoming very aware of his hands on my ass.

“It’s been an above average summer.” He confirms to me with a light chuckle. “Getting you forever is still the best part though.” I shimmy in his arms then look back out across the lot.

“Oh… Matty.” I pout at Kevin. “You going to break the news to him that we are moving?”

“Not yet. We have some time. If he’s devastated, he can just move in with us.”

“Okay.” I nod my head with a laugh. Kevin loosens his grip on me, letting me slide down his body. His hands stay firmly gripping my ass. I turn back to his face. He presses our lips together, tongue sliding against my bottom lip. I open my mouth for him, sighing into the depths of our kiss.

“Let’s do this.” I whisper to him. He nods in agreement.

“That gives us time to build it, move in, get settled, then I’m putting a baby in you. Fast.”

We both agreed we wanted some time together being married before we added to our family. We also agreed we didn’t want to wait too long. A year felt right when we talked. Starting to build the house soon would keep us on that path.

“We should probably practice before you do that.” I murmur to him.

“Mmm. I think we are done here then.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

After one last, confirming look around the lot, we head back to Kevin’s Audi. As per usual, the black SUV races down the highway to our apartment. The car is barely off before our hands are on each other. We are like teenagers rushing into the elevator and up to the 15th floor. The door to our apartment bursts open from our force and we crash into our unit.

“I can’t get you naked fast enough.” I insist to him, hooking one of my legs around his waist. He lifts me into his arms, laughing as his breath dances against my mouth. I close the minuscule gap between our lips. My spine tingles at the connection and I feel the instant heat pulse within me. Our tongues connect and my hands thread through his hair, holding him close to me. His hands grip my thighs tighter and he lets out a low growl from deep in his chest.

Kevin turns and lays me gently onto the couch without our lips disconnecting. We kiss at each other fiercely and our hands move in the same frenzy as we pull each others clothes off.

“I have champagne in the fridge.” He tells me between kisses as our shirts come over our heads.

“Later.” I insist, reaching for him again. “This is the only way I want to celebrate right now.”

I slide my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and wrap my hand around his hard penis. My thumb brushes against the plump head and he melts further into me in response. I ease his shoulders back until he is laying against the couch so that I’m in control. I kiss my way down his chest and abs. I reach the trail of hair circling his belly button before leading me south and I let my tongue take over. Kevin releases a sexy sigh as I adjust him in my hand and place my lips against the head of his dick. My tongue leisurely circles him and his hand comes to the back of my head, encouraging me down further. He lets out a moan that makes my heart pound harder in my chest.

I work him over with my mouth and hand until I know he can’t stand it anymore. His hands are on my head and his hips are jerking himself deeper into my mouth. As much as I want him to come, I want it on my terms tonight. I wiggle out of my panties and then I straddle him, holding his strong shoulders for leverage as I slide down his shaft. There is a brief stitch of discomfort. I wait it out by kissing along his neck. I pull back and Kevin watches me with hungry eyes as I slide up then immediately back down. When he moves his hips to help, I shake my head at him.

“No. You’ll get your turn. This one is mine.” I insist. He lays his head back into the cushions, dropping his arms from me and letting me fuck him like the superstar that he is.

Being in control and watching his face soften in ecstasy pushes me further and further to the brink. I reach for my heavy breasts and hold them in my hands before stroking my nipples. They tighten and Kevin lets out a strangled moan that might actually be a cry. I close my eyes and drop my head back towards my shoulders in delight. “Baby, you look so good fucking me like that.” He encourages me and I know he’s close because he’s starting to help again. His hands come back to my hips and he works me into him in a faster rhythm that has us both crying out in pure, primal need.

“Oh my god.” Kevin whispers as I slide down him one last time, keeping him in me as we both begin to descend back to reality.

“That didn’t suck.” I whisper to him as I pull fresh breath into my lungs.

Kevin wraps his arms tightly around me and rocks me against him one last time before pulling out completely.

“I know you said next one is my turn, but I’m gonna need that again in about 20 minutes.” I laugh at him and run my fingers through the sides of his wild, brown locks. He definitely has just fucked hair.

“Go get me that champagne and we have a deal.” I respond, tilting my head before placing our swollen lips together again.

“Gladly.” He taps my butt, encouraging me to move off of him. I fall to the other cushion and watch with heavy eyes as he walks naked, with a half salute, around the couch. I bite my lip and his eyes meet mine in a knowing look. He stops behind me and tilts my head back so he can Spiderman kiss me. “Love you.” He tells me so earnestly that I literally swoon in my seat. He kisses me one more time and then continues into the kitchen. He returns a minute later with two glasses along with the champagne bottle. He pours them out lazily before handing mine to me.

“To staying.” He toasts to me and I grin.

“To staying.” I respond.

Our glasses clink, we take a few sips, and in another couple of minutes, we are off to the races again.

- - -

I sit patiently next to Kevin watching him scan the last couple pages before he presses the black pen on the line. The back of my knees stick to the leather chair after coming in slightly damp from the humid, July air. I’m wearing a teal and purple, flowery sundress with my hair in a high pony to keep it off my neck. I twirl my wedding rings around my fingers, trying to settle my excitement for a few more moments. Bill Guerin and Kevin’s agent, Craig, are in the room with us. Kevin flips the page, signing the next few spots before pushing the paper over to Craig to review. Relief floods my body at it all being officially official.

“Looks great. Congratulations, Kevin.” Craig extends his hand to him and they share a firm shake. Bill and Kevin shake hands as well.

“We are thrilled to be keeping you in Minnesota.” Bill confirms to him. “Big summer for you two. A wedding and a new contract.” Bill extends his arms out to me.

“And we are building a house!” I cheer, accepting Bill’s hug. “We are happy to be staying here.”

“Us too. Have a great rest of your summer. We will see you in a few months.” Bill waves goodbye as he exits the room, accepting a phone call on his way out.

“I’m off to the airport. Busy month. Congratulations again to you both.” Craig waves and heads out of the room.

When we are alone, Kevin and I dash into each others arms. He squeezes me tight to him and I close my eyes, savoring every detail of this moment.

“I’m so proud of you.” I tell him, breaking our silence. “You earned every piece of this. I can’t wait to watch you keep growing here, where you want to be, with Matty and with an organization that values what you bring to the table.”

“Thank you.” He kisses my temple. “All of my dreams came true because of you. You changed my life, Sam.” I furrow my brows.

“You did the work.”

“Yeah but I didn’t give a shit about the work until I met you. You made me want to be better. I wanted to work on the parts of me that were holding me back from being great. You deserved someone like that.”

“That’s always been you, babe.” I assure him. “You give me too much credit.” He shakes his head no.

“Kev, media in about ten.” Aaron Sickman, PR Director, pops his head in. “Hey Sam.” He waves before he is gone again.

“Okay, I’m going to do this press conference, then I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

“Good deal. Can I come watch?” I ask him. He chuckles.

“Yeah. You want to sit up there with me?”

“No way.” I shake my head quickly. “Just want to hover in the background and watch as you lick your lips after each question, imagining your tongue on me instead.”

“Hey, now.” He warns, eyes dancing along the top of my breasts. “Don’t get me going before I have to do a press conference.”

Mine and Kevin’s phones begin to vibrate incessantly with text messages almost simultaneously. We share a knowing look; the news must be out.

“Another new chapter is beginning,” I say to him as we exit the room, heading down to the press room.

“And just like the rest of them, I think this will be the best one yet.”

With seven more years of security, I agree wholeheartedly with my husband.

[fandom-trash-xl]

Just for reference, who are all of your Frieza Race OCs (if you have multiple)?

I actually do have a decent handful of Frieza Race OCs (though I mainly refer to the species as a whole as Ice Demons or Arcosians in my fics, though I'll refer to them as Frieza's Race just as a general term because everyone has different headcanons for the name). Most of them are female Arcosians and whether or not females exist in the species is debated- personally, my headcanon is wavering a bit in terms of the biology and I may shuffle things but I often needed a defined biological divide for some narrative choices to work in some of my current fic canons.

Anyway, I digress... These are my present OCs in order of creation:

Note, I do consider Kuriza to be half an OC to me since a lot of his character is up to interpretation.

Perma is my oldest Ice Demon OC, dating back to when I still called them "Icejins", though you may see her mentioned in some of my older stuff as Subzero or Zero. She's my Xenoverse CaC and her concept started out as a Frit (Frost x Hit) kiddo! Her design, from what I recall off hand, featured a lot of purple, blue-gray, indigo, etc, basically a color hodge-podge of her two dads. She has the Cooler mask because there wasn't a mouth option I really vibed with, so I just headcanoned it as her allergy mask- she's allergic to dust and you bet there's going to be a lot of that on Time Patrol missions. Later on I may adjust some of her colors if I plan to draw her in full color. Her name's a pun on "permafrost".

As much as I don't want to include him, I have to for the sake of being thorough... Lord Shiver. Shiver sucks. Not saying he's a poorly done OC, he was literally written to be a terrible person. He's Frost's mafia boss father in "Shattered Ice" and he's not really depicted in a good light. He's got blue-gray colorations but I never really plotted out how it looks.

Meanwhile, on the other side of Frost's parentage, we have his mother, Realis. Her name's a pun on "aurora borealis", mainly because my original name concept for Frieza's mother in a fic that never got fully fleshed out was "Aurore" and I wanted the two to match. Essentially, she's part of Shiver's harem (again, reiterating, Shiver was not designed to be a good person), but she gets a bit more elevated privilege on account of being the one gal in the posse "lucky" (read: "unfortunate") enough to be the mother of his child. I think this was the first time I used the idea of little gem "freckles" on the cheeks in my female Arcosian designs (though it started as diamonds and switched to four-pointed stars). She was originally designed with gray scales and cyan gems, though design colorations can change I suppose...

Another one of my big fic OCs is Frigid. I gave Hit a little secretary for his business office and then just sort of ran with it; writing her into the fic was originally to tie into a certain plot point that I won't spoil if you're not caught up on "Shattered Ice", but I enjoy her and I'm surprised I haven't drawn her much. Plus, Hit shipping bonus!! Honestly, I would say more, but she's best experienced within the fic itself. Design-wise, she's got gray scales and turquoise gems.

And then there's also Algid, another one from "Shattered Ice" and another member of Shiver's little posse... She's a bit of a lovesick little yes-woman when it comes to her boss, but she's got some edge to her. Again, description probably isn't doing her much justice, so she's best read in fic. She's got more of a reddish color palette- reason why? I originally intended for her to have a pretty much identically designed Universe 7 parallel that would have been Kuriza's mentioned-only late mother, the red contributing to his maroon gems. I didn't want a good character name and color palette to be wasted completely on a briefly mentioned character- and here we are now, the original U7 Algid not even coming into fruition (totally not because I forgot that part in my notes while writing "Love Like You"...).

[projecthipster]

Cold Brew Coffee

Yes, that’s the draft of the very words you’re reading on the screen next to the subject of the words you’re reading. Self-referential recursion is hip.

I did make my own cold brew themed playlist a while back, but I like this one better. I played it at work today and enjoyed how seamlessly it transitioned between '60s folk, '90s punk, classic jazz, and classical piano. Really showing the multiplicity of vibes that a coffee shop can entail.

Part I (Wednesday)

It took me a shamefully long time to like coffee. Like, I only started drinking coffee if tea was also available after I’d already started writing Project Hipster. And as if I were trying to make up for missed college years, since then I’ve gone all in and have been trying all the styles across the long menus at my city’s many good hipsterish coffee shops. If I can’t get this post to a thousand words before bedtime tonight, I shall have to go to one tomorrow, order a cold brew, and keep writing this.

Cold brew is made exactly the way it sounds: by soaking ground coffee in cold water, for much longer than the few minutes of your typical hot brew. We’re talking multiple days for the best brew according to some people on /r/coffee, whom I would absolutely trust to know best. The longer, slower brew also makes the coffee stronger in caffeine, which I could clearly tell when I sipped my first can of old Kicking Horse cold brew and it hit my system like a runaway light rail vehicle. The actual brew produces a concentrate, diluted into water or ice or, according to some googling I’ve done into where I can find it near me, crazy stuff like smoked citrus tea. Man, I love hipster cafés. But that can was definitely expired, and I didn’t have a taste for the bean in general back then. So I think I need to take a little journey tomorrow, on the train if I’m working or on my bike if I’m not, and buy a good, fresh cold brew from a good hipster café at the mall or Downtown, and get back to you. Your Hipster Archivist out for now.

Part II (Thursday)

It’s cold today. Not crazy cold, just a few degrees below freezing on the low, a gray sky hanging somewhere over the tops of the skyscrapers downtown. A few degrees windchill below the dry-bulb, and dropping towards the weekend. But that’s cold enough to not be iced coffee weather. Maybe that's better for trying a cold brew and judging it, though. The way I’m feeling the chill channel through the canyon streets, a warm coffee would be great today. So the cold brew is fighting an uphill battle to appeal to me. Plus, it’s the afternoon. I had planned to pick up my cold brew to try it in the morning, but a mixup in the work schedule meant scrambling to get me into the shop and not wait on a coffee down the street in the morning when the extra caffeine would add to the appeal too. Instead, here I am with my heavy-caffeine brew, only available in a big 16-oz cup, cold when I’m already cold, late enough in the day that I’m glad I probably do have tomorrow off and don’t need to worry too much about it keeping me up.

And it’s still pretty good.

Granted this is a pretty good hipster cafe I’m sitting at, across the pedestrian street from the museum under renovation, laptop laid on a rough wood table, Father John Misty playing over the speaker. As I ordered, the barista tried to tell me about selection of single origin beans for sale. At the table next to me, a pair of thirty-something very businessy women are talking about Team Leads, Washington Journal podcasts, decarbonization in the energy industry, critical mineral investments, “capital,” “key shareholders,” and about a thousand three-letter acronyms that I couldn’t break down with a gun to my head. The most hipster cafe would be antithetical to this kind of businessy talk, but maybe that’s no surprise what with how the Death of the Hipster has been one of a decade of corporatization as the prime-Hipster millennial ages into sub-executive power. Also, this is merely one of the best hipster cafés Downtown, which means it’s still a Downtown café. Maybe to get to the most prime Hipster Spot I ought to have caught the Purple Line out to Inglewood, but then I’d be finishing my adrenaline shot pint of cold coffee at, like, 7 pm.

I’m about two thirds of the way down the plastic cup and my eyeballs are vibrating, by the way. The café’s closed and I’m poaching their wifi from a stool in the conference centre outside.

Once I’d ordered, the barista gave me a warning that they serve the cold brew black. So this was a drink that came with a disclaimer. I’m just short of having had to sign a waiver. And with the urge to twitch my fingers now flooding down into my hands, I can see why. I had one sip totally black. It was sharply bitter, a step beyond coffee black as iron, the other end of the spectrum from a double-double (and I think that spectrum aligns with hipsterness level; a double-double is the least hip drink imaginable, and because Tim’s is a Brazilian-owned enshittifying megacorp now, that’s not unpatriotic to say.) Generally I like bitterness, I like tannins. I like stouts, dark chocolate, black coffee. How much of that is my actual taste and how much is the desire to fit the hip aesthetic of it? I don’t know. It’s both. It doesn’t matter. Do I have a limit to going down the dark side? Well, my limit has pushed further as I’ve grown, so maybe it’ll only continue until as an old man I’ll be chewing raw beans. The barista asked if I wanted milk or cream, and I said yes, cream please, partly because I like everything, even tea, fairly creamy and smooth, but also for the aesthetic pleasure of watching that moment of those swirls of heavy pale cream mix into the dark coffee. Swirling and fading at the edges in tiny spreading gradients. Like clouds of snow blowing off a mountaintop, illuminated by alpenglow of a sun already set behind valley headwalls. Like the milky way in a clear country sky. I was a little sad when she took a little wooden stir stick and diffused it all together to a smooth tawny, topped in some inscrutable trick of chemistry with a paler skiff of crema. And that’s why this spot with its cold brew was supposed to be so special: they do pump the cold brew concentrate through a nitrogen-infusing tap, like a dark porter, a properly tapped Guinness. As a result, my pint of coffee (it’s practically dinnertime and my eyes are about to vibrate out of my skull) has the smooth-velvet, deceptively easy-drinking but later-on brain-punching feel of an excellent stout. I’d do this again when I need something to carry me through a hectic day. For now, I’m gonna need a heavy dose of chamomile just to cancel out the uppers from this cup and get some sleep tonight. I can see why the business people with their horrid go-go-go ethos like this. And for the energetic hipster needing to work the other way, to be aggressively anti-growth by slamming out the next great poetic epic about prehistoric fish or whatnot, maybe this Meth Lite could be of help too.

I give this Hipster Food a rating of my teeth are about to fall out.

Project Hipster is a futile and disorganized attempt to dive into the world of things that the internet has at some point claimed "are hipster," mostly through ListChallenges search results.

This review comes from the seventeenth list, Huffington Post’s 22 Most Hipster Foods. I’ve heard of HuffPost but honestly don’t know much about them, so don’t come after me for that. I’m just using a list from someone who reposted their list of Things That Are Hipster. That’s what I do here.

Up next: a slow, atmospheric movie that I might have to rewatch to remember fully.

Stay deck.

[mysmistree]

Last Song: Touhou - Night Of Nights [PC-98 Cover] by FutoOnChase on YouTube. I've never played the Touhou games, but the music is such a vibe that I listen to it pretty frequently, with whole seasons where I'm just a U.N. Owen Was Her kinda fan.

Favorite Color: It varies, but I love a lot of really good colors. Anything deep, that feels like it could be a pool of something impossible and maybe slightly jellied is amazing to me, like a nice metallic blue or purple. But, when it comes to getting dressed up, am a big big earthy-colors girl. I dress in a lot of browns, greens, and gray/blacks, looking like something out of either a Steampunk film or a Ghibli side character. Got a few skirts and dresses that really gimme a victorian hint with some flavoring of one genre or another.

Currently Reading: Nothing presently, but I was in the middle of Mythos by Stephen Fry, and I'm wanting to read more of it, as I'm a big Greek Myth geek. I recently finished. I also finished Cards on the Table by Agatha Christie rather recently (Though I, admittedly, was a little frustrated by the ending.)

Currently Watching: Nothing! I don't watch stuff very frequently. Though a big comfort movie for me is The Imitation Game, which got me into cryptography, and I've probably watched around 15 times.

Last Movie: I went to see Deadpool & Wolverine! I thought I'd hate it cuz of the blood and gore, and honestly the opening WAS a little hard to swallow, but overall I love that film and wanna go see it again.

Sweet, Spicy, or Savory: SWEET. I am a BIIIIG sweet tooth. Gimme hot cocoas, marshmallows, candy, lemonade, the works! Sour is also a big flavor though that wasn't an option, and I kill for a good burger or pizza, so savory comes after that.

Relationship Status: Single, newly, and making my head spin a bit because of usual emotional struggles.

Current Obsessions: Sea Of Thieves. I don't know why. I just love that game so, so much. Playing it with friends is so exciting, and gives me such energy between the high moments and the low ones. I'm also trying really really hard to write, and I've got a whole new chapter in one of my WIPS, plus I published one of my stories onto my blog, which has been a success so far!

Tea or Coffee: TEA. I don't drink coffee, though I can enjoy coffee-flavored like, milkshakes and such from time to time. I majorly majorly prefer tea, especially ice tea (Cuz ice tea can be sweet) and am super partial to Lemonade Tea. (Arnold Palmer's Half & Half being my go-to brand as it's the only one I've found.) So so tasty, and I make a whole deal out of it from time to time, getting me a teacup and everything. Big vibes.

Last Thing I Googled: "timothee chalamet" because a friend was telling me that he is "all cheekbones" and I had to see what they meant. They're right, for the record.

No pressure tags: I also don't know too many people here! But for my fun and sanity sake, I will poke @metalst @dr-blu-skies and @caffeine-and-spells

tag 9 people you want to get to know better!

tagged by @yourlocalegotisticalqueerishere thanks for the tag!

Last Song: currently listening to ICU by Citizen Soldier (at the time of starting this post). before that it was Gone Too Soon by Daughtry. at the time of finishing and posting this, i am currently listening to Lucky One by Simple Plan

Favorite Color: dark purple. always dark purple. dark purple my beloved <3

Currently Reading: nothing atm because i haven't had the chance to make another trip to the library, but the last book i read was The Meaning of Birds by Jaye Robin Brown! Very sad but very good. I've also recently read Stars, Hide Your Fires by Jessica Mary Best, The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester by Maya MacGregor, and I Wish You All The Best by Mason Deaver! I very much enjoyed all 4 of them, but I will say that The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester was definitely my favorite :)

Currently Watching: rewatching Star Trek: Discovery with my dad (and introducing my mom to it at the same time), watching Only Murders in the Building with my mom for the first time, and my dad and I just recently finished watching Star Trek: Lower Decks. plus my mom and I are always in a perpetual rewatch of Legends of Tomorrow and/or Arrow (though they've been on pause a little bit lately). now I'm just waiting for The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon: The Book of Carol to come back in late September lmao, among other shows

Last Movie: uhhhh I'm honestly not entirely sure. I think it might've been either Heart of Stone or Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, but I could be wrong about that

Sweet, Spicy, or Savory: definitely savory. i do love salt lmao. i do still have a bit of a sweet tooth but nowhere near as much as i used to, and now it's mostly reserved for white chocolate and other vanilla-flavored things lmao

Relationship Status: i am so, so incredibly, painfully single and i do not see that changing anytime soon unfortunately

Current Obsessions: uhhh, i guess my usuals? Citizen Soldier, of course, Legends, The Walking Dead, Star Trek. those are like. the main ones, idk.

Tea or Coffee: neither. i can't stand to drink either of them, they both taste nasty to me ngl. just let me have apple juice and i'm set

Last Thing I Googled: uhhhh ngl i think it was 'savory definition' just to make sure my "i love salt" comment would make sense LMAO but before that it was the 4 books I've read recently to make sure I was getting the names of the authors correct

andddd idk if i actually have 9 people to tag but i'll do my best.

No pressure tags: @forthehonorofgrey @chocolatemilk25 @for-forever21 @lochjhessmonster @lola-andheruniverse @justpalsbeingals @marimacha-tonto @mari-the-alien and anyone else who wants to! (just pretend i tagged you lol)

[unrestedjade]

Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

[girldraki]

we don’t want to draw all of them just for this so you’re getting the barbie meme sorry

l-r:

sigguros: you know her! dresses like our vague conception of what irl witches dress like and/or kind of Dark Academia™️. sweater heavy. wears a lot of stuff off one or both shoulders. favors cool colors

clementine: this is awkward but uhhh ⚠️ currently under character rework so we’re like throwing a blanket over her for now. Unpersoned For Meta Reasons. it’s fine

estela: lots of overalls, lots of red/warm and bright colors, almost in the ms frizzle category of femme. this plus the pink hair is partially why she’s a notable campus figure

elodie: the only person on here whose fashion sense we have ever publicly discussed*. to recap: athleisure enjoyer, dresses like neopolitan ice cream 👍

aurora: owns like eight variants of the same turtleneck/sweetheart neckline dress combo and wears them almost exclusively. also kind of Dark Academia i guess.

robin: very simple style. wears a lot of “basic” or “generic” looking clothes incl particularly a lot of sundresses. wears mostly blues and black/white/gray

serra: you know her also! kind of butch i think actually. we flail at describing all masc fashion so the best we can offer is “…,like kind of like chell from portal???” SAD! Well there’s other clothes

none of this even matters because it’s not like the art meme is going to have clothes that exactly fit any of these but we have spent so much time making these profiles there is no way we’re not posting them 👍🫡

we would do outfit drawing memes except we’re pretty sure most of you don’t have a solid idea of who is who in the elodiecule let alone their fashion taste. sobs and dies

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

So remember the Shield was broken in the battle in Endgame and while it possible they found all the pieces more likely then not they just used new vibranium to repair it. Also the fact it was made from vibranium in the first place. T'Challa has given this to Cap. So by this point it's Steve Rodgers property, right? Steve gives it to Sam and Sam donates it the Smithsonian with the internet it be displayed in the exhibit of Captain America and the Howling Command. Then the U.S. government just underhandedly takes it. Point is I don't understand how anyone considers Sam taking it from Walker as wrong.

The shield Steve had, that Thanos destroyed, was left behind when Steve went back to return the stones. Remember he didn't take it with him?

I don't know what they did to the damaged one, it's like the pieces of Mjolnir just being left in Norway without a care in the world. That stuff is valuable! I like to think either Sam or Bucky took it and destroyed it or something.

It's anybody's guess where Steve got the new one he gave to Sam, there are many fan theories about it. Personally I like the one that says Steve went to Wakanda in that alternate reality he created, befriended T'Challa and they made one for him. There are other.. uh let's call them... less nicer takes such as he just took the shield from the Steve that was in the ice but that's a little too sadistic for me so I prefer the other one.

As to the property of the shield that one is a little trickier. In CW Natasha says it's government property but in TFATWS we have this quote from Valentina Allegra de Fontaine: "Oh, by the way, don't worry about the shield. I know you don't have it. Here's a little, dirty state secret. It doesn't really belong to the government. It's kind of a legal gray area", so I suppose it's one of those things where the government thinks they own it because nobody has taken the time to read the fine print. Good thing Daredevil is in the MCU now 😁

Whoever gets mad that Sam took it from Walker is being ridiculous, the government took it from Sam and gave it to a white guy who never knew Steve, who didn't know the first thing about what Steve stands for and didn't deserve to lay one damn finger on it - plus, you know, the shield was still stained with blood when Sam recovered it, blood of an innocent and unarmed man Walker had murdered in the middle of the street so... cry me a river, Walker stans.

[artificialqueens]

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Five (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Denali and Rosé officially enter the arena.

A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing comments on the last chapter! It really does mean a lot to me, especially because this one has been a little challenging to write. I'd really appreciate any feedback you have on this chapter!

Denali opens her eyes to gray.

The arena is gray and wet, mist falling over the damp grass, fog curling around tall trees and a massive cliffside. A chill bites at her, but Denali doesn’t mind. She might even have an advantage here. The warmer districts don’t know this cold, wet weather, but Denali knows the cold like an old friend.

Rosé coached her for this part, said to find a bow and whatever she could grab, but not to go in too deep or engage in any fights. After that, her first priority is getting far away and finding water.

Denali repeats it to herself, avoiding how the other tributes tower over her. The gong sounds, and she runs—

“Denali!”

Rosé’s voice brings her back, and the world around her isn’t wet, but grassy, with forest all around. Pine hits her nose, and it reminds her of the hours in the woods back home, her dad showing her which plants were safe to eat. The odds just might be in her favor this year.

Rosé is on her platform a few feet away, and the Cornucopia looms in front of them, an enormous golden horn stuffed with weapons and supplies. The others are spread in a circle around the Cornucopia, waiting for the gong that releases them.

The gong sounds.

“Denali, run!”

Denali doesn’t think twice. Her boots fly over the grass, the other tributes just blurs in her vision. She reaches the Cornucopia seconds before anyone else, and in those seconds, she finds what she needs: a bow and a quiver stuffed with arrows. The quiver is a comforting weight on her back, the bow warm in her hand, and if it wasn’t for her pounding fear she could almost convince herself she’s back home. She grabs a backpack and two knives in another heartbeat before footsteps and shouts erupt.

The tributes have arrived.

Most brush past her, deeper into the Cornucopia, where the best stuff is--weather-proof tents, huge bags of food, medicine. Part of Denali wants to join them, but there are always a lot of deaths at the Cornucopia, and she has what she really needs. She can’t get killed on the first day.

Blood suddenly splatters over Denali’s boots, and she sees the District 7 man hit the grass with a knife in his back. Denali tugs it free and adds it to her weapons, running towards the woods. She can’t see Rosé among the bodies at war with each other, and her heart skips a beat at the thought that something happened to her--

A distinct flash of red comes on her side, and Denali almost crumples in relief. Rosé has a sword and two spears, plus a backpack. And better yet--four full water bottles. Denali doesn’t want to know what she went through for those.

“You good?” she asks Rosé.

Rosé nods. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

They go for hours, switching between walking and jogging, trying to get as far from the Cornucopia as possible. They haven’t run into any dangers yet--no murder-wasps or anything--and Rosé doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. They don’t want to be complacent, and they keep pushing themselves, not even stopping to check their supplies, taking only the smallest sips of water. Rosé’s grateful for all that running with Denali--she probably would have dropped by now without it.

When the sun sets, bathing the arena in a golden light so warm and peaceful it almost makes you forget where you are, they finally stop. They’re in a clearing, and Denali arranges thick bushes and leaves to cover them.

“Let’s see what we have,” Denali says, and they lay out their stuff.

A sword, two spears, a bow, thirty arrows, three knives, four water bottles, a tiny first aid kit, six packs of dried meat, matches, and a sleeping bag.

“Damn, we did good,” Rosé whispers. “I got a freaking plastic tarp and a sword I didn’t know how to use for my first round.” She doesn’t want to get overconfident yet--it’s still day one, after all--but there’s comfort in knowing they have stuff, in not ending the first day so hungry and thirsty it hurts.

Denali nods, splitting up the food, and it’s almost nice in their little hiding spot. If they weren’t in the arena, if they both weren’t constantly looking around for danger, it’s a place Rosé might like to be. Berries even fill the bushes, ripe and juicy-looking.

“You think we can eat those?” Rosé asks. Denali taught her the most common edible leaves and plants when they trained, but Rosé’s never seen berries like these.

Denali almost jumps in the air. “Do not eat those, Rosé. They’re nightlock, they’ll kill you instantly. If we--if we get separated or anything, promise me you’ll remember.”

“Promise,” Rosé says. She’s quiet after that, and it’s because of what Denali said. If we get separated. Rosé’s been with Denali so much lately that she can’t imagine her not being there. She did fine on her own last time, and figured she’d be on her own again this time. But they’ve somehow crawled back into each other’s lives, and Rosé doesn’t want to do this--doesn’t want to be here--alone. The thought of them getting separated, of losing Denali in the arena, is enough to make her sick.

The anthem cuts across the dark sky, and they look up to see the images of the tributes that were killed today. It starts with the man from District 3 and ends with the woman from District 11. Ten dead tributes ticked off on Rosé’s fingers. Pretty high for day one, but not the highest. She knows she should feel something, but she doesn’t. She didn’t even learn their names. It’s easier that way.

“Twelve more left besides us,” Denali says.

“Glad all that math help I gave you paid off,” Rosé teases, and Denali smiles big enough to show her dimples. God, those dimples. Rosé forgot how much she missed them. She grabs the sleeping bag and hands it to Denali. “Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Wake me in four hours.” Denali slides into it with a white-knuckled grip on her knife and her bow within arm’s reach. She keeps twisting in the bag--Rosé figures she’s right on Denali being afraid to sleep around people--but eventually settles down, exhaustion winning over.

It’s too dark to see much, and quiet enough to hear Denali’s gentle breaths. Rosé doesn’t think any tributes will attack tonight--they’d only be putting themselves in danger attacking in the dark--but she wouldn’t put it past the Gamemakers to spring something. Rosé is sure she keeps hearing noises, every muscle tense in preparation of an attack. The only thing that eases the tension is closing her eyes and listening to Denali breathe. It centers her somehow, helps Rosé figure out what she’s really hearing and what her mind is making up. As long as Denali’s here, as long as she’s breathing, Rosé is okay.

“Denali, wake up,” Rosé says softly after four and a half--she gives Denali some extra rest; she probably won’t know--agonizing hours. She’d tap her shoulder, but something tells her it’s not a good idea. Definitely not, because Denali immediately shoots awake and her knife hits Rosé’s chest. Even with the tip there, Rosé’s reluctantly impressed at how good Denali’s sight and aim are in dim moonlight.

“It’s just me. Rosé.”

Denali inhales sharply, yanking the knife away. “I--Rosé, I--I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rosé understands. She’d shoved Lagoona after a nightmare once, her brain convinced her sister was a threat.

Rosé crawls into the sleeping bag and feels Denali’s unease seep over her. Besides her family, she never has anyone around when she sleeps. What if something happens? What if they’re attacked before Denali can do anything? What if she has a nightmare in front of Denali? She doesn’t know if they’re on camera, but that won’t look good in front of the Capitol. They want strength and toughness from their tributes. Waking up screaming from a nightmare will only hurt their cause, make them question Rosé’s strength, and she can’t do that.

But she’s tired, really tired. The sleeping bag is surprisingly plush, so thick she can’t even feel the hard ground beneath her. Everything is warm and soft, and though she tries to fight it, she sleeps.

---

The sun wakes Rosé before Denali does.

Day two in the arena, and Rosé resists the urge to burrow back into the sleeping bag and sleep until it’s over.

“I was just about to wake you,” Denali says. She’s ready to go, bag on and weapons in hand, and Rosé thinks Denali gave her some extra rest too, paying back the favor. “There should be a water source nearby,” Denali continues.

Rosé nods and follows, trusting Denali to guide them. Rosé’s world was one of icing and sugar and butter, of kneading dough and sweating in front of hot ovens. But Denali knows forests better than anything, her childhood made of branches and trees and plants. Rosé is amazed at how she keeps track of it all. Those water bottles won’t last forever, and if anyone can find water here, it’s Denali.

They continue through the woods, and again they don’t encounter anything. It has to be deliberate. The Gamemakers want to lure them into a false safety so the danger is that much more frightening when it does come. Rosé doesn’t want to think about what they might send.

She makes a mental map of the arena as they go. The forest seems to be the largest part of it, leading to another large valley, and then the mountain. Not an obviously threatening arena, and again Rosé thinks it was a choice. When faced with tributes who’ve seen so many different arenas with so many different dangers, leave them guessing about what to expect. A basic arena like this could accommodate anything the Gamemakers want to unleash.

But nothing is unleashed the second day, and they trade uneasy sleep shifts.

---

Day three brings the first threat--a group of lizards in bright neon colors that roam down a tree when Denali and Rosé are resting. They're definitely a Capitol hybrid, and Denali isn't sure if they're poisonous, but she doesn't wait to find out. Five arrows, five dead lizards, before they even know what hit them. It's almost comforting, in a way, to have something to fight against for a few seconds. Instead of just wandering the arena and waiting.

They decide to move on in case more lizards come, and see the District 4 tributes crossing the field.

Denali freezes, grip tight on her bow. They're out in the open, and she could get them both before they even hear her arrows whistling by them. Two less tributes to worry about. More odds in their favor. But they're defenseless. No threat at all, just walking along. Denali knows that they'll have to be killed eventually if she wants to win. She just doesn't want to be the one doing the killing. At least not unless they try to kill her first.

She lowers her bow. "Rosé, I don't think I can do it. I'm sorry." She hangs her head, expecting Rosé to tell her she's being stupid, or get mad at her for blowing an opportunity most tributes would literally kill for. What if Denali's lost her nerve? Will she be able to kill when her life really is on the line, when she really has to?

But Rosé just nods. "It's okay."

And they move on.

---

By day four, Denali is on edge. She flinches at every rustle, every snapping of a twig, but they haven't run into anything or anyone since District 4. Two tributes die, cutting it down to ten more besides them. They’re at the halfway point, and that surely means something big is coming. The Gamemakers won’t leave things alone this long, won’t let the tributes stay separated. This suspense, this tension hanging over their heads, while intentional, has to break at some point, to the interest of the viewers and horror of the tributes. Something has to come.

And on day four, it does.

Denali senses the change in the air before the rain comes, reaching her hand up to catch a drop.

It sizzles against her palm.

“Run!” she barks at Rosé, cradling her singed hand to her chest.

Burning rain pelts off their jackets as they tear through the woods. The material offers some protection, but tiny drops make their way over Denali’s hands, on her face, down her back. She hisses against the burning, and Rosé curses beside her as they try to find dryness. In one direction, gusts of wind almost bring Denali to her knees, ruffling her jacket and making the rain pound down, and she glimpses a thick spiral in the distance that she numbly realizes is a tornado. A fucking burning rain-tornado combo. The Gamemakers really want their money’s worth today.

“There,” Rosé pants, and Denali realizes a valley to their left is perfectly clear. They sprint into it, collapsing on the grass, and Denali can’t even look at the blisters on her hands. There’s a plant that helps burns, her father told her, she just has to remember--

“Aloe!” She runs to the leaves. She finds the plant and cuts it with her knife, letting the cool gel soothe her hands and face, sighing in relief. She cuts more and takes it to Rosé, who’s bent over in the grass so no one sees her face screwed up in pain.

“Rosé, it’s okay. I can help.” She places the gel on Rosé’s hands, ignoring the tingle in her arm at the touch.

“Can I do your back?” Denali asks gently, and Rosé only hesitates a second before she nods.

Denali lifts Rosé’s shirt and jacket, letting her hands trace up the hard muscles of her back as she spreads the gel over her blistered skin. She keeps her touch gentle, not wanting to cause more pain, and she knows this has to be on camera and exaggerates her touches, makes herself seem extra caring, even if she hates herself for it.

“Let me do yours now,” Rosé offers.

Denali freezes. For the briefest second, her ankle tightens with the grip of the girl from District 4, but Rosé isn’t her. Rosé is only trying to help, not hurt, and Denali nods, even if she hasn’t asked for help in years. It would blow their cover if she refuses anyway. She holds her breath as Rosé moves her shirt, not letting herself tremble or show pain in front of the Capitol.

“I’m gonna put it on now,” Rosé says. Denali sighs when the gel hits, grinning when Rosé scolds her to stay still. She hasn’t had someone care for her like this since her mother died. In seconds, the pain is gone, and they watch the rain. Denali wonders how long they’ll be trapped here. Not to mention that finding aloe seems too good to be true. Too suspicious.

“Some rain, huh?” Rosé mutters.

“Don’t forget the tornado,” Denali laughs bitterly.

“Wait.” Rosé stills, ear toward the rain. “Do you hear something?”

Denali doesn’t hear anything before five tributes sprint into the clearing. The storm was clearly meant to send them into one dry spot, and even with the burns, a windswept tribute from District 1--Denali thinks his name is Castor--launches himself at her with a sword. It’s too late to string her bow, and he’s too close--but Rosé jumps in front of her, the sword cutting across her leg as she swings her own sword at him. Metal clangs as they go at it, and Denali can’t even process that Rosé just saved her life before the woman from District 4 comes at her. Denali grabs a spear that Rosé dropped and blocks the woman’s arm, sinking the point into her chest a second later. The woman hits the grass, and cannon fire joins the noises of battle.

“On your left, Fox!” someone yells. The voice is too deep to be Rosé, and Denali realizes it’s Finn from District 4, currently locked in battle with the man from District 8. She barely has time to thank him before the woman from District 1 pounces at Denali, nails clawing at her neck. Denali blocks her just in time. The world is sweat and blood and heaving breaths, and Denali just hopes Rosé is still alive.

The fight ends as suddenly as it started, when Denali stabs the woman and looks around and realizes the rain has stopped, and there’s no one left to fight. The man from District 8 escaped into the woods, but the clearing is littered with dead tributes from Districts 1 and 4. Her bloody hands still grip the spear, just in case. Her arm is trickling blood, and her neck stings with scratches from the woman grabbing at her, but she’ll survive. She hardly feels it, hardly feels anything, really, as she looks around. And Rosé--Rosé is still standing, thank God, limping over to Denali. The gash on her leg is huge, soaking her pants with blood, but she’s alive, and Denali’s knees almost buckle in relief.

“Are you okay?” Denali asks. “We gotta get out of here, then we can bandage your leg.”

Before Rosé can speak, a wheeze sounds from the ground, and they dart toward the noise. It’s Finn, clinging to whatever life he has left. The man from District 8 must’ve got him. As she looks at him lying there, golden hair stained red, she finds the numbness fading into emptiness, emptiness that swallows her heart. Sparing his life yesterday had been for nothing. But deep down she knew it would be. There's no escaping the fate of the arena. He had been kind, had offered her an alliance she barely considered, had warned her of an attack even when she killed his fellow tribute. And now he’s dying. Would things have been different with an alliance? Would they have protected each other? Would he have become a friend that she would inevitably lose? He was going to have a baby, she remembers, but hearing it in the training room and remembering it now are two different things, and she wishes she didn’t remember. She understands why Rosé avoided the other tributes and didn't talk to them, why she tries to avoid the Games entirely.

“You said he was having a kid,” Rosé says quietly. Her normally wary eyes seem sad.

It’s not a question, but Denali nods anyway.

Finn wheezes again, letting out a hoarse please. Please what, Denali has no idea, and watches in confusion as Rosé approaches him. She can’t mean to kill him--he’s good as dead. Instead she crouches down, takes his hand, and begins to hum something. It’s a simple melody, one that sounds like a lullaby. Denali understands--Rosé can’t help him, no one can, but at least he won’t be alone. Denali kneels with her and just listens, goosebumps on her arms, and pretends she’s somewhere else. Somewhere she never had to do this. Somewhere the two women she killed today never attacked her in the first place.

The cannon sounds, and they leave the clearing in silence.

---

They don’t talk again until that night.

They bandage each other up and eat some fruit Denali found as they walked, lost in their own minds. Rosé’s eyes finally lose that far-off look as she eats, though she keeps turning her apple over and over like she’s never seen one.

Denali doesn’t know what to say. The cold side of her has already calculated that six other tributes remain--both from District 2, both from District 8, the woman from 7, and the man from 9. But how can she focus on who’s left after this afternoon?

They both jump when two parachutes appear.

The first contains a medicated cream, one that instantly starts healing their burns and soothes any remaining pain. The second is a platter of bread and fish, clearly from District 4, the fishing district, and Denali knows it’s because of what Rosé did for Finn. She swallows the lump in her throat, resenting the part of her that’s so hungry it wants to grab the food and shove it down without a thought. Another part of her doesn’t want to eat it at all, doesn’t want this reward when there’s blood on her hands. They don’t deserve this. They weren’t even friends with him, didn’t do anything to help. But Rosé made his last moments easier, and maybe that counts for something.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” Rosé whispers, and Denali knows she feels the same way.

“I know. But I think it’s disrespectful not to,” Denali says.

Rosé nods. She turns her head, because there’s clearly a camera on them, and thanks District 4 for their gift. They split the food and eat slowly, savoring each bite.

The silence continues until the anthem ends, and Rosé nudges the sleeping bag toward her.

“I don’t really feel like sleeping,” Denali admits.

“Me neither. Nightmares are a bitch.”

Denali had long assumed Rosé had nightmares, given that the lights in her house are on almost any time Denali wakes up in the night. Denali’s not worried so much about dreams--it’s more that she’s sure she won’t be able to sleep and will just be lying in the sleeping bag with nothing to do but think of today’s deaths, or how Rosé protected her. Denali’s come to rely on her, to enjoy her company, and today just proved how close she is to losing Rosé and doing this on her own.

“Things seem...different now,” Denali says.

“It feels more real,” Rosé says simply, because she understands.

Denali nods. “We left while everyone fought at the Cornucopia. We didn’t see the other deaths. But this time...”

There’s a difference between watching someone die and killing them yourself, and it’s a difference only a few people fully understand.

“We did what we had to,” Rosé says quietly.

Denali nods, because it is true. She never wants to kill just to kill, only when she has to in order to live. And being in the arena again makes her realize how much she wants to live. She wants to go home and and watch the sunrise each morning instead of just ignoring it on her runs. She wants to invite Kandy and Kahmora over for dinner, and talk to Jan and Lagoona again, wants so many people in her house that she’ll need a whole new set of coffee mugs. And she really wants Rosé to be part of it. Maybe she can. Somehow.

Denali doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and she can tell Rosé doesn’t either, from how she’s picking at her sword.

“I--I’m glad we both made it,” Denali says. “I’m glad I’m here with you. Thanks, by the way. For saving me back there.” Her subconscious knows it's a good thing to say strategy-wise, to prove the romance, but she really means it. She’s used to fighting tooth and nail for what she wants, not anyone helping her or protecting her. She didn’t have an older sister running to the stage to save her from the Games, didn’t have an alliance in the arena last time. She really is grateful for Rosé.

“So am I,” Rosé says sincerely. “And you don’t have to thank me. We look out for each other, okay?”

“Yeah. What was that thing you were humming?” Denali asks before she can stop herself.

Rosé looks down at her lap. A shaft of moonlight falls over her face and bathes her in silver, and Denali’s heart skips a beat. “It’s a lullaby my mom used to sing us. I don’t actually know all of it. We were usually asleep before she finished. But I never forgot the melody.”

“Oh.” Denali’s mother wasn’t one for singing. She told stories instead, old fairy tales of princesses and knights that Denali used to fight sleep to hear the end of. Sometimes her father would join in, and when he died, Denali lost not one but two storytellers. Her mother became a half-finished story after losing him, one that ended abruptly eleven years ago. Denali’s hand goes to her necklace, but she meets empty space.

No. No no no--

“What’s wrong?” Rosé asks.

Denali hadn’t realized she was speaking aloud. She doesn’t answer, instead digging through their bags while her heart pounds. She’s making too much noise as throws aside knives and food packets, but she doesn’t care because it’s gone--

“Denali,” Rosé says, and her calm voice breaks through. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom's necklace. It’s gone. I must’ve lost it in the fight.” Denali remembers the woman from District 1 clawing at her neck. She must have torn off the necklace in her struggle, and Denali didn’t notice among the chaos. Now it’s gone and she’ll never get it back, when she has so little of her mother at all, and she angrily forces back the tears stinging in her eyes. She won’t cry. Not in this arena.

“I’m sorry. It's your mom's, right?” Rosé asks quietly, and Denali nods. “Tomorrow we can go look for it. It could still be in the clearing.”

Denali knows it’s a long shot, but the mere offer—an offer to go back into danger for something that’s not physically necessary—stirs something in her chest. It’s more kindness than she’s been offered in years, more kindness offered without any reward expected, just like Rosé sneaking cookies into her bag, and it’s too much to take. She mumbles a thank you and crawls into the sleeping bag, explaining that she’s tired after all. It’s an excuse to not look at Rosé, at the concern in her eyes, because Denali can’t bear it. No one has looked at her like that in years. She feels too exposed, just like at the interview, and looking at Rosé is impossible when every part of her is raw and laid bare.

Surprisingly, sleep comes easy, and it brings not nightmares, but dreams of Rosé.

---

The sound of trumpets wake Rosé the next morning, after a restless sleep of tossing and turning. Her leg felt like it was on fire, and sweat ran down her neck all night even though it was cool outside. Her head kept swimming with images of the fight, but what really kept her awake was her confusion over Denali. Why couldn’t she look at Rosé, and why did she throw herself in the sleeping bag minutes after saying she didn’t want to sleep? Maybe it was the stress of losing the necklace. Maybe she wanted to hide in the sleeping bag so no one saw her cry. The necklace is obviously a touchy subject for Denali, and she’s probably just stressed. They both are. Rosé won’t pry.

She sits up and rubs her eyes with a groan. “What’s with the trumpets?”

Denali shrugs, seeming back to normal. “Must be an announcement. Maybe because there’s only eight of us left? We’re at the last third.”

Rosé can’t believe sixteen people have died, that they’re already at the final eight. It feels like ages and yet like no time at all has passed.

“After we win this, I should be a math teacher,” Rosé says, heart lightening when Denali smiles. Announcements are usually done to bring tributes together for a big bloodbath. Though the rain accomplished that yesterday. Maybe this is something different.

Rosé listens as the announcer explains an unprecedented rule change. In light of three full teams remaining, the most ever at the eight-tribute-mark, both tributes from the same district will be winners if they are the last two alive.

“Does that mean…”

“It does,” Rosé answers. If she and Denali are the last two standing, they’ll both win.

“We can do this. We can really do this.” Denali leaps to her feet, all the sorrow from last night gone. Rosé hesitates, a dark part of her wondering if there’s a catch, or if this is a trick. But they can’t just announce something like this and take it back, not when the audience will expect a team victory. Not when the audience will expect a District 12 team victory, because the parachutes last night just prove that they’ve succeeded, that their love has won over the crowd. They can win this, and the audience is rooting for them.

Rosé nods. “Let’s move, before they send more rain.” She hauls herself up, but a sudden pain explodes in her leg. The world spins around her, blackness closing in on her vision. She hears Denali saying her name but she can’t answer, can’t do anything but close her eyes and let the darkness take her.

[jtsfavslut]

Winter Wonderland [GD]

Dolanmas Day Two

Winter Wonderland - Michael Buble

Description: Grayson takes Y/N skating in New York,  everything is perfect, even if things don't go according to plan. 

Warnings: nothing but nice, sweet things!!!

Word Count: 2.3K+

Christmas in the city was one of Y/N's top priorities on her mental bucket list. One that Grayson had memorized like it was his ABC's. This Christmas he wanted to make sure that instead of a fantasy, it became her reality. When she found out what they would be doing for Christmas, she couldn't help but let a few happy tears out, feeling so excited and loved by Grayson. She thought of how he went out of his way to make one of her fantasies come true, even if it was for a silly holiday.

"Are you ready babe?" he asked and she nodded her head. Grayson decided to visit his mom on the way, staying at her house for a few days, spending some time in New York, then going back to his mom's house for Christmas.

Y/N, couldn't help but feel ecstatic, spending time with the people she valued so much while having her wish come true, all because of him.

The train ride to New York was only an hour, but it felt like hours to her, "I'm so excited," she gushed and he smiled, seeing her happy made him happy. She watched as people walked in and out of the train station, holding back a squeal as they made their way out of the station and into the city.

The large buildings covered in snow made her heart content. The way the snow slowly fell from the sky making her body feel warm, even if it was below 30 degrees.

"Baby, so I found three things to do," he began speaking and she nodded her head, "We're gonna have to wait until it's dark out for two of them, but we can start going to the first one now, it's a 20 minute walk, or do you wanna take the train?"

"We can walk if you want, I kinda want to look around if that's cool with you," she replied and he nodded his head.

Y/N has obviously been to New York before, plenty of times actually. But never during the Holiday season, as they walked around she admired everything. Taking everything in, stopping at a few places to grab a drink and take pictures of each other, until they finally reached their destination, making her jaw drop and her heart to fill with nothing but love and happiness,

"Grayson, no you didn't," she spoke before pulling him into a hug, causing a chuckle to fall past his lips.

"Sure did babe," he smiled. He took her to a Winter Village he found while doing his 'research', and knowing she was going to love it, he added it to the things he wanted to do that weekend.

When Y/N found herself in the famous Winter Village in Bryant Park, she didn't know where to exactly look, finding something more interesting with every step they took.

"Gray, oh my God look, it's a little nutcracker," she gushed pointing to one of the little kiosks that were selling hand-carved and painted nutcrackers, the ones that Grayson loves so much.

"Which one babe?" he chuckled and followed her to the table, the old man that was selling them, telling them a story about how he started making them and whatnot.

"Gray, this one looks like you," she pointed to one and he shook his head with a smile.

"And this one looks like you," he replied, picking up a ballerina one that had similar facial features to hers.

"Oh God, if only I was a ballerina," she chuckled as the man watched the pair in adoration.

"You really love each other don't you?" he asked with a smile, causing the couple to blush.

"Yeah," they spoke in unison, smiling at each other before looking back at the man.

"We'll take these two," Y/N smiled and he nodded his head, bending down to get a paper bag and some stuffing paper from a bucket underneath the table, before taking the medium-sized figures from their hands and carefully placing them in the back, exchanging it with the $20 bill Y/N handed him before Grayson could.

"Have a great Christmas you guys, take care," he waved them off before they walked away.

"What do you say and we come back in a few years and get mini ones," he smiled, making her stop on her tracks.

"Like babies?"

"Yeah like babies, we already have us, now we just need the kids we're having," he said and she smiled nodding her head.

"I'd like that," she smiled, grabbing his hand and walking away to the other little shops.

"Babe, I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," she spoke and he nodded his head, she walked away into the woman's bathroom, while Grayson looked around, trying to find something to surprise her with.

His attention was immediately caught by a table filled with all kinds of snow globes, and little souvenirs, he walked towards it, noticing a middle aged couple putting out some more.

"Hi, sweetie! What can I help you with?" the woman asked with a smile and the man continued to organize the stuff.

"Hi, I'm looking for something to surprise my girlfriend with," he smiled and she nodded her head.

"And what kind of stuff is she into?"

"Well, she always wanted to spend the holidays here, so maybe something with all the buildings and stuff,' he replied and her face filled with excitement.

"John, give me the one," she spoke, emphasizing the 'one' making Grayson question what she meant by the one.

His question was answered when John handed the woman a snow globe, a small version of the city covered in snow was captured in the globe, frozen in time. Just how he wanted these moments with her to be. Frozen and untouched.

He purchased the globe, quickly sliding it in his pocket and making his way towards Y/N who walked out of the restrooms just as he put it away, "Find anything?"

"Nah, I just waited for you," he replied, and she nodded her head before looking around.

They spent about two hours having fun, spending, and eating.

Everyone felt content, and Grayson's plan was working on his end, everything happening just like he planned it.

"Where to next?" she asked taking a sip of the hot chocolate she bought at one of the stands, the heat warning her body so perfectly.

"You'll see," he replied, not giving her the answer she wanted, making her playfully roll her eyes as he grabbed her hand and walked towards their next place.

"Gray, Gray, I'm gonna fall," she slightly shouted as nervous giggles fell past her lips.

Y/N's dream was to go skating, and Grayson took her skating…..there was just one tiny little problem. Neither she nor Grayson knew how to skate.

Leaving them stumbling in the middle of Rockefeller Center as others zoomed past them.

"Why does my dream include something that we have no idea how to do," she laughed as her arms tightly clutched onto Grayson's, who was a little more stable than her.

"I'm not sure, but here we are," he smiled at the way she was doing everything. The way she nervously held on to him, the way she turned her head to look behind her, or the way she would shake up every time someone passed them.

"Thank you for bringing me here Gray," she spoke after she had finally gotten the catch, she wasn't perfect at it, but more stable and they hadn't fallen yet which was enough for her to consider it an achievement.

"I'd do anything for you," Grayson whispered, making a rush of blood reach up to her cheeks, the red tint mixing with the cold.

"I'd do anything for you too, and more," she replied as they went around the rink.

"Not possible,"

"Yes, it is," she laughed, shaking her head as they accidentally bumped on the edge.

"How bout' we stop here before we fall?" Grayson asked and she nodded her head. They quickly left the rink and changed back into their shoes before walking around the place.

"This tree is so big, my God," she whispered, tilting her head up to look at the entire Christmas tree.

"Honestly, I don't even know where they get it from," Grayson replied, making her laugh.

"Well obviously from a tree farm dummy, they grow it and donate it," she said, still looking at it, the reflection of the lights in her eyes making them sparkle.

"Not that! I mean like how do they get it to be so big," he spoke making her shrug.

"That my love, I have absolutely no idea," she sighed, turning around to face him, "why are you so perfect?"

"Y/N, babe, I am far from perfect, you, however? You are everything I always wanted and wished for," he spoke so truthfully, no doubt could be found within his voice.

After Grayson's big failure at his desperate, and rushed attempt to find his soulmate, he gave up and lost all hope.

That was until Y/N came along, He fell fast, ignoring all of Ethan's warnings. He then took some time to himself, remembering that he told himself he wasn't going to rush into things, but he couldn't get away from her, so he just let it happen.

Now they were here, a normal relationship, everything Grayson always wanted, and something it took time to get used to.

He was used to the typically rushed hookups, his fucks, and dumps, but with Y/N around, he didn't feel the need for any of that, he was happy and content.

"Babe, that's all you. You're everything to me," she spoke as her cheeks blushed, a calm and happy smile on her lips as her heart raced with nothing but love and adoration.

Everything was going perfectly, they walked for a couple of minutes until Grayson tripped, earning them a trip to the ER.

According to him, the ice moved when it saw him, "Gray, please it's okay. I had all the fun I needed," Y/N reassured an upset and pouting Grayson, who felt bad for ruining her little getaway.

"But still, we should've been-," he began to apologize before she cut him off by placing her hand over his mouth.

"Grayson no. Your ankle is more important to me than some Christmas lights," she replied, handing him a bottle of water, and holding his hands, "I love you,"  

"I love you more," he replied, bringing her hand up to his lips, placing a quick kiss on it. 

“Plus, this is fun! We get to have a little sleepover, sounds fun right?” She asked, trying to make the best of the tragic situation. 

“Everything’s fun when I’m with you,” he replied with a smile as she shook her head blushing. 

“We could watch some movies, I can go buy some food and come back. I think I saw a pastry shop on the way here,” she spoke with a smile, letting go of Grayson’s hand to grab her purse, “I’m gonna look around and see what I find, okay? Don’t do anything stupid,” 

“I won't. Be careful, yeah? And call me when you get there, please,” he spoke before she leaned down, giving him a quick kiss before walking away. 

“I promise, see you later,”

It took Y/N, five minutes to find the pastry shop, and around 30 minutes to find what she needed for her spontaneous sleepover with Grayson. Y/N being Y/N obviously got carried away and spent more than an hour as an anxious Grayson laid hopelessly on a hospital bed, his nerves suddenly waving off as his precious angel walked through the door with her arms full with a couple of bags. 

“I’m back! Now, scoot over and I’ll show you what I bought,” 

[peaches-writes]

how to appease your asian aunties ch. 3 - spring break

* icym: this was prev. a guide to social gatherings but i changed the title bc i still think i’m funny that way

description: in the immortal words of blood-related aunts and aunts you’re not even related to but forced to call your aunt at reunion parties, “do you have a boyfriend?”  member: jisung / han  genre: fluff, fake dating au, implied rich kids au, eventual childhood / best friends to lovers au, college au, implied fem reader (but i still used they/them pronouns)  word count: 5.4k chapter warning: food, a conversation calling out toxic asian family culture oops note: i’m not confident with this one bc i had to re-write this two times (?) with diff. plot directions + srsly idk what happened here what was the point am i ok + i didn’t post this accidentally this time !!!! 

ch. 1 // ch. 2 //  series masterlist

After seeing you and Jisung interact during your trip to the mall, your mom has started loving this new idea of you dating one of her close friends’ sons so much that she has not-so-discreetly started conspiring with Mrs. Han in order to see the two of you together as much as possible. From invitations for snacks and drinks at one’s house every day after school to whole-day activities on the weekends (usually to the mall or the cinema), it didn’t take long before you and your own best friend put two and two together and conclude that your respective moms have somewhat developed an auntie type of obsession over your fake relationship. 

This idea that your moms would love you and Jisung together so much to this extent initially flew past your head when you started this fake relationship last Christmas. You were only thinking of casually fake dating your best friend, after all; such arrangement ideally confined only in social gatherings where invasive relatives and family friends ask about your love life endlessly. You genuinely did not expect that that Jisung would start tagging along to you and your parents’ Sunday movie dates and side with your dad every time you disagree on your selected movie’s ending; or that you would not be parting ways with Jisung after school anymore when you reach your house and he has to drive another block to get to his.

But for the most part, you’ve decided as the weeks fly by with this new added twist in your everyday, it’s fun and, even at times, cute. Though Mrs. Han dotes on you more now, like you’re her own child, and your mom is starting to be more talkative around Jisung since they now have you to talk about, you still get to eat snacks either your mom or Mrs. Han made, hog the extraordinarily fast wifi at Jisung’s house, and get free movie tickets and shopping bags from when you’re going out with the other’s family on the weekends. Plus, it’s made your workaholic mom come home earlier just to see you and Jisung lounging in your living room and Mrs. Han’s worries lessen now that Jisung’s busy with something else that isn’t academics or whatever it is he does with his Bumble and Tinder apps. 

At times, it’s tiring having to hang out with your best friend under the guise of a couple, especially when you didn’t really plan for it to be this way, but you can’t deny that there are perks to it. 

So, you wait more patiently for Jisung every day after your classes now even when he usually takes a lot of detours to see his friends before driving over to you on the other side of campus. You still hang out with your friends, Ryujin and Chaeryeong, after classes, of course, but you part ways with them just a little bit earlier now to anticipate Jisung’s Convertible pulling up in front of your building and unnecessarily yelling at you to get in even when he’s the one awfully late. 

Because if you were to choose between your other best friends and a free expensive snacks, you’d always choose the latter without fail. 

“You know,” Chaeryeong comments next to you on this particular Friday, stretching her legs down to the steps below you three while you scroll through your phone and Ryujin naps on your shoulder with her earphones still plugged in. “if I didn’t know that you’re ditching us earlier for free fake dating food, I would’ve thought that you and squirrel boy were seriously dating.” 

“You always think we’re dating either way.” You roll your eyes, not even sparing a glance at the smug grin on her features. “Anyway, aren’t you happy we’re ‘dating’ now? It’s what you’ve always hoped for but, you know, fake.” 

Only then do you turn to Chaeryeong over your shoulder, also scrolling through her social media on her phone. She meets your gaze after with a scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows. “Hm,” She pretends to contemplate, placing her index finger up to her chin. “I don’t know. I think I’ll have to wait until someone caves and you actually develop feelings for each other—like in books!” 

“Seriously?” You deadpan with pursed lips, only making her laugh. “Of all things you could bring up.”

Chaeryeong shrugs in response with a knowing smile, chuckling when your expression doesn’t change. “You never know!” She replies in her defense, laughing all the way. “You did say after break that you’re just going to fake date if there’s an event but it’s Spring Break tomorrow already and you’ve been fake dating every day since classes started again.” 

“Sounds like a romantic trope to me.” She comments last teasingly before you can even interject, swiftly dodging your hand when you reach up to try and smack her. Literature majors, really. 

“For one, I don’t want to date Jisung, I’ve seen enough of him my whole life for that and I don’t think I’m in the mood to date in general. And besides, we’re only a ‘couple’ at home when someone’s mom is watching.” You counter as you retract your free hand back to your side, alternating your gaze between her and your other hand with your phone. Jisung’s last message is that of him informing you that he’s making a quick stop at the International Relations department today to hand Hyunjin his books ten minutes ago. Knowing him, if he didn’t get lost or got distracted by a kiosk selling coffee, he’s probably on his way now. “And you know I love free stuff, it just happens to come only if I hang out with Jisung these days.” 

“So what happens when you ‘break up’? And I don’t mean the cute perks from the aunties.” Chaeryeong asks next, leaning back on her propped elbows now that the stairs going up to your college building have started to cool down from being exposed to the sun the entire day. “I mean, it’s back to normal for us as your friends—I do miss not having to remind my parents that you’re a couple now—but your moms are going to think it’s weird that you suddenly broke up and went back to being friends like nothing happened.” 

“I already told you and everyone else, we’ll think about that when it happens.” You shrug both at her and the nagging thought in your mind that she has a point.   

“And when exactly will that happen?” She prods on, smiling smugly at knowing that you and Jisung never talked about this certain part of your current predicament clearly. “‘Dating until everyone doesn’t think of Jisung as a fuckboy or when aunties stop offering blind dates’ sounds vague to me.”

You see Chaeryeong’s smile grow bigger when you don’t answer immediately, accidentally letting time pass until Jisung’s gray Convertible pulls up steps below you with an obnoxious honk. 

“Y/N, my mom bought gelato today!” Jisung yells at you from his roofless car, his radio blasting Bermuda Triangle at an embarrassingly loud volume. “Let’s go!” 

You then quickly shake Ryujin awake in response, gently moving her to Chaeryeong’s legs when her eyes open, before standing up and waving goodbye at your two friends. “Like I said, I’ll let you know when it happens.” You hurriedly conclude your conversation with Chaeryeong with a triumphant smile, making her roll her eyes. “See you after the break!” 

Chaeryeong only shakes her head in disbelief, easily letting you go from her interrogation with a wave goodbye. “You be careful now, hm? Have fun with your ice cream, then!” 

You chuckle as you run down the stairs, waving your hand up for her as you move away without sparing a last glance. “Don’t worry, I’ll take pictures!” At this, you open the front passenger seat to Jisung’s car and smoothly slide in, haphazardly discarding your backpack next to his at the back before closing the door next to you. “Hey, ugly. Glad you didn’t get lost on campus.”

“Speak for yourself, ugly.” Jisung teases back, shifting the car’s gear back to ‘Drive.’ “How was your day? You three look so bored out of your mind there.”

"Better now that we’re going to eat ice cream at home.” You put your seatbelt on as Jisung now drives the car home, reaching over to the radio in between the two of you after and lowering the volume. “Classes were tiring as usual. What flavors did auntie get, by the way?”

Jisung almost makes the wrong turn with your choice of words, quickly gathering his thoughts and shaking his head. “Fu—u-um, Ferrero, strawberry, and mint choco, that’s what she texted me.” He shrugs, making the correct turn to the nearest campus gate this time. 

From the corner of his eyes, you nod with a hum as you sink back in your seat, completely missing the way you unconsciously caught him off-guard even with the screech of the car tires. “Oh, cool—no pun intended there.” You chuckle to yourself, leaning to the opposite side now to watch the college buildings pass by. “We’re watching The Conjuring 2, right?”

“Yeah.” Jisung scoffs, brushing off what remains of his sudden nervous feeling with the comment. “Tch, cool.” 

Like every Wednesday and Friday that Mrs. Han prepares you after school snacks and drinks, you and Jisung go through tubs of ice cream and tumblers of water while a horror film is projected on the television of the Han’s ground floor living room. Mrs. Han, who has her office day off on Fridays, would occasionally drop by and either ask if the two of you need anything or comment on her distaste for horror under her breath. 

“Oh, oh, dear.” She clutches her pearls dramatically, much like her son would, as she passes by for the sixth time to go to the kitchen and catches another glimpse of The Conjuring in the process. She then turns to you and Jisung after to calm her nerves, catching you still sprawled across the sofa with your legs lazily piled on top of Jisung’s.

Of course she’s seen you in the same position before in the few times you came over as one of Jisung’s friends but the sight now seems different under the guise that you and her son are a couple. Typical mom. 

“Hi, auntie!” You greet her when you catch her from the corner of your eye also for the sixth time, waving your empty spoon in greeting with one hand while the other blindly reaches for Jisung’s laptop on the coffee table to pause the movie. Jisung hides his face under a throw pillow at this, already having enough of his mom snooping around for today and you giving her the time of day. Since when did you get comfy with his mom, anyway? “Do you need anything?”

Mrs. Han immediately shakes her head with a dismissive wave and smile. “Ah, nothing, I was just checking up on you two!” She clarifies again. “Do you need anything? Extra pillows? More water?” 

You shake your head politely, holding up the water tumblers on your other side reassuringly. “We’re good but thank you!” 

At this, Mrs. Han clasps her hands together in satisfaction. “Alright, if you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen, then!” She concludes, taking a step back from the door frame. “You’re staying for dinner, right, Y/N?” 

You glance over at Jisung, prying the throw pillow away from his face enough to see him shaking his head and making you feign a teasing frown for his mom. “You don’t want me to stay over dinner, babe?” You taunt with a smile, chuckling when he pushes the pillow back onto his face. Turning to Mrs. Han, you add, “I think Sung doesn’t want me staying for dinner, auntie, but I’ll gladly stay over if you want me to; anyway, my parents are coming home late today.” 

“What? Oh, he’s just being shy!” Mrs. Han dismisses with another wave of her hand. “Please do stay for dinner. I’ll text your mom for you too.” 

“Alright, if you say so.” You nod, giving her your sweetest smile now. “Thank you so much!”  

With that, Mrs. Han then bids you goodbye and proceeds to the kitchen. When the sound of her stilettos fades outside the living room, Jisung removes the throw pillow in front of his face with a groan, scooting closer to you until his shoulders bumped into yours. “My mom, seriously.” He then smacks you on the shoulder with the throw pillow as you press ‘play’ on his laptop again. “Ya, are you seriously dining with us tonight?” 

You kick his legs under yours in response. “I think it’s cute, it’s not like she caught us doing something weird.” You shrug in his mom’s defense. “And yes, I’m staying over because your mom is clearly cooking tonight and I can’t say no to an offer and free food.” 

“I’ll have to get back at you when we’re back at your house on Monday.” He counters back, shamelessly dipping his spoon on the mint chocolate ice cream in your hands. As he bites on the small chocolate drops on the ice cream, a thought then crosses his mind and he asks, “Wait, are we still hanging out on Spring Break?” 

You turn to him, swatting his hand belatedly before taking a big chunk of his strawberry ice cream. “I don’t know, my mom hasn’t mentioned anything and I don’t think my parents have any plans of going on vacation this break.” You answer truthfully before eating the spoonful of ice cream. “What about auntie?” 

“Nothing from her too.” He shakes his head. “Though we’re definitely going on vacation this Break—my dad really wants to check out the new Jeju hotel.” 

“When are you coming home?” 

“Friday night, I think? We leave on Sunday.” He answers, taking a sip of water now that the taste of ice cream is now making his mouth feel sticky. He takes note of how you used the same word again, recovering quicker this time before he could even choke. “So we’re definitely not hanging out on those days.” 

You hum against another spoonful of ice cream, this time from the Ferrero ice cream in the small gap between the two of you. “I mean, it’d be nice to be away from you for once—we’ve literally been joined to the hip after classes and most weekends since the New Year—but that would mean no free food which would be a shame; I really like your mom’s cooking.” 

“Ouch, I didn’t know you don’t like spending more time with me just for me.” He clutches his chest dramatically, hugging the throw pillow again. “I thought you’d like this since I was away for a year.” 

“We barely hung out before you even left.” You chuckle in amusement, grabbing the pillow from him again and this time lazily discarding it to the other end of the sofa. “I already thought you’re annoying the rare times we hung out before. Now, you’re just the bane of my existence.” 

Next to you, Jisung laughs along belatedly, holding his ice cream tub away when you try and take another spoonful of strawberry from him. “Yeah but I’m the bane of your existence that you’re ‘dating’ in front of the aunties for free stuff and them leaving you alone.” He points out, giving in to you after when you almost topple over the Ferrero ice cream and handing you his strawberry ice cream. “So you can’t really complain.” 

You roll your eyes as you exchange tubs of ice cream. In front of you, a jump scare goes unnoticed as you pay more attention to Jisung anticipating what your next words would be. “I’m grateful,” You clarify in a mumble as you chew on the ice cream. “But you’re still annoying as hell.” 

“Not like you’re any better.” He rolls his eyes with another playful laugh, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, I think we shouldn’t hang out on Spring Break: we’re going to ‘break up’ if we keep meeting too much at this point.” 

This time, it’s you who gets another thought at this comment. Shifting in your seat as well so you’re now facing Jisung, you ask in a change of topic, “Right, I meant to ask: when exactly are we ‘breaking up’?” You raise an eyebrow at him when his eyes widen in confusion. “It’s just that Chaeryeong and I were talking about it a while back and it had me thinking.”

“Hm? I thought we’ll do it a little after Chan and Miyoung’s wedding.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “There aren’t many events after that and I’m sure the aunties won’t bother you for a while since you’ll start working.” 

“And if they do?” You ask back curiously. “Starting work at your own parents’ company while going through a ‘break-up’ doesn’t exactly guarantee a free pass from blind dates—remember the last time Yeji had a relationship the aunties knew about?” 

“Right, that was quite chaotic.” Jisung replies, keeping his spoon in his mouth now instead of eating more ice cream as the unexpected question actually catches him off-guard. “But, I don’t know. I guess we can keep going a little longer after the wedding, until the aunties have someone else to bother or, you know—if you end up liking someone else.” 

You then catch Jisung’s eyes light up at this idea and you hear him quickly add, “Hey, how about that?” He then removes the spoon from his mouth, placing his ice cream down in between the two of you. “You don’t have to worry about your elders and we don’t have to fake date anymore.” 

“Actual dating?” You furrow your eyebrows. Jisung nods at this. “You know how I feel about that. I don’t think I want that for myself right now given the changes that are going to happen after we graduate.” You wave your hands around now, setting your ice cream and spoon down before sinking back in your seat. “And I especially don’t want that just for the sake of getting people to mind their own business; it’d be like giving in to the pressure in a way.” 

You glance over at Jisung to see him nodding thoughtfully now, an unfamiliar look crossing his features before he meets your gaze and comments, “Okay, that’s fair—but we both know it’d be too troublesome to fake date for a long time.” He then sighs, sinking into his own spot and leveling with your gaze.

Suddenly, you feel a shift in the air around you as Jisung sets his ice cream down on his other side. “Aish, don’t you just wish you can talk back to older people?”

“Yeah.” You nod in agreement this time, pursing your lips. The air suddenly felt sincere now, a bit comical since the people keep screaming on the television in front of you but, for some reason, you don’t feel like laughing because Jisung isn’t despite obviously having the same thoughts. “I mean, we all know that the talks about dating and career and everything else are often in good-nature but a lot of times they’re just invasive and a bit rude.” 

When Jisung doesn’t reply as quickly, you nudge his shoulder and add, “I especially think of the time you told some of the parents during Yeji’s birthday about your plans to study in Malaysia and how negatively they received it because they think you won’t graduate on time and that you should just finish college quickly and work.” Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise this time. “They don’t know how hard you work in your studies or how you really wanted to go abroad and explore and I really wanted to scold them for it.” 

“Y-You still remember that?” He asks in disbelief, earning him a casual nod from you. 

“Of course,” You confirm, your free hand unconsciously balling into fists on your lap at the memory. “I’ve never wanted to yell at my mom’s friends until that point even when you tried laughing it off so I’m glad you proved them wrong when you came back during Christmas and impressed them when they asked about it again.” 

You see Jisung chuckle under his breath shyly, tearing his gaze at you for a moment. “You mentioned that night that you were annoyed. I never knew you were this annoyed.” He muses out loud. “Thanks.” 

“Thinking about it now, I feel a bit bad,” You point out after, heaving a frustrated sigh. “You’re keeping up with fake dating me even though it just started as a little joke last Christmas to protect me in a way but I couldn’t stand up to you two years ago.” 

Looking up at Jisung, he grins at you reassuringly and shakes his head, effectively easing the atmosphere back into being more lighthearted. “No, it’s okay.” He dismisses your frown. “Just knowing what you really thought then is fine already.” 

“And,” He shifts in his seat after, transferring the tubs of ice cream in between the two of you now to his other side so he can scoot closer. “I get free food every other day from your mom because we’re ‘dating’ so it’s nothing, really.” 

You scoff when he breaks out into laughter. “Right, of course.” You deadpan before breaking out into genuine laughs yourself. “What was I even thinking, talking about sincere things with you?” 

The two of you laugh for a while, even more when Jisung pretends to complain that you just 'wasted’ the last act of the movie talking about ‘mushy stuff.’ 

“Stop complaining, dummy,” You smack his elbow, sitting up properly now as the credits begin to roll. “you entertained my rants instead of stopping me so it’s your fault too.” 

“Because you brought up something of mine from two years ago!” He protests before moving away to gather all your scattered snacks to the coffee table, laughing in disbelief all throughout. “I had to respond or it’d be rude!” 

You only roll your eyes at him, making the two of you laugh even harder. You then lean back on the sofa, stretching your hands above your head and removing your legs off of Jisung while he disconnects his laptop from the television and closes both electronic gadgets. 

Turning to you, after, you see his laughs turn into a small sincere smile once again. “But seriously,” He says, glancing back at you from his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

“For?” You prod him teasingly, earning you a groan of frustration from him. 

“For almost getting mad at the elders?” He jokes back with a raised eyebrow before going back to being sincere again. “Nah, for being understanding with me and my choices.” 

“Of course,” You reply casually. “even if we joke around a lot, you’re one of my best friends—well, as if I had a choice in that, you know me too well and too long.”     

“Way to ruin the moment.” He frowns at you in feigned disappointment, making you chuckle, until another thought crosses his mind. “And, Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You look up expectantly at him. 

“We have to break up some time after the wedding but I’ll still try and protect you,” He clears his throat awkwardly. “from the ‘rude’ and ‘invasive’ comments after, I mean. You should do whatever you want to do freely and date seriously when you want, not when older people pressure you into it.” 

At this, your gaze softens at him visibly, even more when he doesn’t make other hints that he’s joking. “Thank you.” You mumble, just loud enough for only him to hear when you see Mrs. Han pass by the hallway again. “You should too, you know, do whatever you want and date whenever you want to.”

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but, behind him, you catch a glimpse of Mrs. Han suddenly returning to the hallway and stopping by the living room entrance again, waving at you and unintentionally cutting her son off. “Y/N, Sungie, dinner’s ready!” She informs you before Jisung could even get a single syllable out, making him purse his lips in annoyance with his face hidden from his own mom’s view. “Y/N, I already texted your mom, by the way, and she said it’s fine that you stay over for dinner.” 

You turn to the side and nod at Mrs. Han, chuckling when you see Jisung hiding his hands on his lap and exaggeratedly curling his fingers up in frustration. “Thank you, auntie! We’ll be right there!” You assure her, smiling up at her until she disappears back to the opposite direction of the kitchen. 

Turning back to Jisung, you swat his finger tips back into relaxing with a laugh. “Guess we have to go back to adhering to the system and fake dating for now, though.” You conclude with a giggle, standing up from the sofa and fixing your clothes. “What were you going to say before your mom barged in?” 

After a moment of silent contemplating, Jisung ends up shaking his head and following you, gathering the tubs of ice cream in his hands. “It was nothing.” 

“Really?” You ask, elbowing him gently before picking up your water tumblers from the sofa. “Come on, tell me.”

“It’s nothing, seriously.” Jisung assures you with a laugh, walking ahead of you out of the living room and turning around to see you catch up. “Come on, leech, dinner time.” 

You bump his shoulder with a laugh when you manage to catch up with him, “Shut up, you’re also a leech.” 

“But not on this day, you’re in my house.” He corrects. 

Dinner with the Hans regrettably passes too soon even with all of Mrs. Han’s questions on your school life and post-college plans; and Mr. Han bringing up embarrassing and, at times, even exaggerated stories from when you and Jisung were children. When Mr. Han is suddenly forced to retreat back into his home office to attend to a minor emergency (hastily bidding you and Jisung goodnight) and Mrs. Han managed to win in your argument over you helping her and the house helpers to do the dishes, the old grandfather clock at the house entrance strikes quarter to 9 PM which prompts Jisung to offer you company in walking back home. 

“Yes, how thoughtful of you, Sungie! Do walk Y/N home!” His mom comments with a proud grin as she shoos you out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you after Spring Break, Y/N, okay?” 

You nod, giving her one last side hug, careful of the dish washing liquid bubbling up on her pink gloves. “Have fun on your trip to Jeju, auntie!” 

“I’d ask you to come along if it didn’t turn out so last minute, I did mention it on New Year” She jokes, much to Jisung’s horrified face. “Oh, Sungie, what’s that look for? Don’t you want Y/N to go on a trip with us next time?” 

You giggle nervously, pulling away from the hug after and taking a step back to Jisung’s side. “Maybe next time, auntie? I have lots of deadlines this break, anyway.”

“Ya!” Jisung hisses at you discreetly, pouting again that you’re entertaining his mom’s antics. You only elbow him in response. 

In front of you, Mrs. Han seriously contemplates on the idea before waving her drier glove. “Yes, it is quite last-minute right now since we leave on Monday.” She smiles fondly. “Next time, it is, then!” 

“Okay, that’s enough planning for a future trip!” Jisung quickly interjects before you can humor his mom longer, placing an arm over your shoulder and turning you around to face the open door leading outside. “It’s getting late and I have to walk back here on my own after!” 

You wave back at Mrs. Han, laughing when she rolls her eyes at her son before bidding you one last goodnight. “Goodnight, auntie!” 

With that, Jisung gently pushes you into a run out of his house, haphazardly closing the door behind him and directing you across the front lawn, to their gates, then, finally, to the dimly-lit streets of your subdivision. You’re only pulled to a stop when Jisung almost pushes you to a car parked on the house across his, making you laugh. 

“Ya, we didn’t have to run out so fast!” You protest, clutching your stomach with one hand while the other hits his side. “My stomach hurts.” 

“You keep entertaining my mom’s ideas!” He playfully whines back in between tired pants, catching his breath quickly before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “If you’ll keep going like this, you might actually become best friends!” 

You scoff, keeping his arm on your shoulder anyway as the two of you now walk to the direction of your house. “Watch your words, Han Jisung, or it might actually happen.” You warn him teasingly, adjusting your backpack on your shoulder. “Besides, I was just doing what you were doing on New Year—how did you call it?—’earning points.’” 

“I also told you then that my mom already likes you so much,” He pouts, easily pulling you flush against him when a lone car passes by. Instinctively, he then moves you to his other side so he’s walking closer to the road. “You’re just going to be more annoying at this point.” 

“Well, I like your mom, too, so I’m going to be extra annoying from now on,” You grin mischievously. “maybe until we ‘break up’ then everything’s going to be awkward for a while.” 

Glancing over at Jisung from your side, you see him genuinely frown momentarily before sighing in feigned defeat. “Fine, do whatever you want.��� 

You want to ask him about the sudden frown but you end up shrugging it off as you cross the street to get to the right turn at the intersection. With the new direction you’re walking into, Jisung shifts you to his other side again. 

“You know, it’s not like some car’s going to crash into us,” You move to his other side anyway and swiftly dodging another offer of him slinging his arm over your shoulder. “We’re inside the village? Where the speed limit is 20 kph?” 

Jisung scoffs, dropping his arm back to his side “Your house is on your side of the street, dumbass, that’s why I moved you there.” And, as if on cue, you see your own house slowly coming into view among the towering gates and trees. “That little heart-to-heart talk we had must be getting to you, huh?” 

“As if.” You elbow his side in retaliation, your backpack hitting his back slightly in the process which only fuels his teasing more. 

“Aren’t you glad I’m here to walk you home?” He asks with a grin, just as you reach your gates. “Imagine if you got lost when we’re literally a block apart.” 

“I hope the dog next door escapes and chases you back home,” You groan, walking a few steps ahead to open the smaller entrance on your gate with your key. 

Behind you, Jisung only laughs, unfazed, before walking over to your side again and extending his arms out for a hug. “Okay, sorry,” He grins halfheartedly. “Come here, goodbye hug.”  

You raise an eyebrow at him, swinging your gate open with one hand and stepping one foot on the other side. “What do you mean? My mom’s inside.” 

“Yeah, but I haven’t hugged you alone in a while.” He points out while tilting his head sideways, earning him a genuine look of confusion from you. 

“Ya, it’s not like we don’t hug platonically before all this.” He adds with a shaky snicker before pouting. “I’m going to get s—”

“Okay, fine.” You scoff with a small smile, stepping outside again to hug him. “Look who’s getting all mushy now.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” He shakes his head against your neck, reluctantly pulling away from you after a while. Rubbing the nape of his neck bashfully, he adds, “It’s just that—everything’s been a bit different now since I got home.”  

“It’s mostly your fault—”   

“—I know and I don’t regret it,” He interjects quickly, wiping the smug smile of your face. “since I’m doing it to get you away from creepy guys but it’s just us now and I sort of...miss being casual.” 

Your frown tugs upwards into a sincere smile as you lean back against the gates. “We are casual. It’s just that people are looking now.” 

“Can we hang out sometime?” He suggests with hopeful eyes. “just us, like old times.”

“You call it old times like it wasn’t just two years ago,” You point out, chuckling now. “But—sure.”

Jisung nods with a big grin now, excitedly shifting his weight on his feet. “So, see you after the Break?” 

“Buy me something nice from Jeju then we can talk.” You conclude, stepping inside now completely. “Night, Sungie.” 

“Hm, goodnight.” 

When you accompany one of the Han’s family drivers to fetch Jisung and his parents at Incheon International Airport exactly a week later, you only expected to see the box of imported chocolate snacks Jisung promised to buy you as the only unfamiliar thing that you’ll see, maybe even an entirely new carrier with Mrs. Han’s vacation haul if she did actually spent more time shopping than working. 

What you genuinely did not expect, upon finally spotting your best friend and his parents waiting for you at crowded Seattle’s Best, is him holding more than just your box of chocolates. 

“Hey?” You wave at Jisung in confusion as you stop right in front of him. To your right, you catch a glimpse of the family driver, Mr. Yoo, greeting Mr. and Mrs. Han on the next table before obligingly taking their luggage cart. “Who’s this little angel?” 

Only then do you notice the two other unfamiliar people with Jisung’s parents, eyeing you curiously and whispering to Mrs. Han, probably to ask who you are.

Jisung waves his hand at you once before transferring the same hand over the nape of his neck, “Y-Yeah, um, this is—”    

But before he could even finish and maybe even explain, the little girl on his lap shifts in her place and jumps to stand in front of you. “Hello!” She grins sweetly in slightly broken Korean, waving one hand at you while the other clutches Jisung’s bear plushie. “I’m Kitty!”

“Oh, hi, Kitty!” You bend your knees slightly to level with her gaze hidden behind round eyeglasses, briefly sparing a glance at Jisung after and raising an eyebrow at him before smiling again at the little girl. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you!” 

“It’s nice to...m-meet you!” She politely returns the gesture, hugging Jisung’s bear plushie shyly after and making your heart skip a beat. “Will you also live with us?” 

“At home?” Your furrow your eyebrows deeply now, standing up properly and turning to Jisung who you then belatedly notice has stood up as well and slung his backpack and Kitty’s over his shoulder. “Sung?” 

Jisung stands next to Kitty and places a hand behind her back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Kitty’s going to live with us for a while.” 

ch. 4 // series masterlist

tags: @t-toodumbtocare​ @sandaigdigan-reads​ @pwarkhans​ @ruellelix​ @malai-barfi​ @mahalau​ @milkywayfelix @qweens-stuff @tenclouds​ @crscendoforsung​ @verobibble

[bittywitches]

I’m obsessed with the college roommates concept— maybe you’re feelings lonely and kinda sad abt ur love life one night and Grayson offers to take you on a date just for fun as friends but then ~feelings~ happen ☺️

Umm do you mean that one episode in season 8 of friends where Joey takes out pregnant Rachel and gets his crush on her??? Bc yes :))

It’s probably just been one of those weeks, you know? An assload of assignments, tests and exams every other day, most of which you’d completely bombed and were feeling shitty about. You hadn’t had more than 5 hours of sleep a day in like a month, you’d been living off of microwavables and instant noodles, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water since all your energy has been from coffee. And the kids in all your group projects this semester? Idiots. Selfish pricks. Every single one of them.

So it was needless to say that you were just in one of those moods. It was a Friday night, so things had slowed down enough, finally, but it also finally gave you some time to let yourself think, and god it was not great when you had to think.

It had started as just one of those basic thoughts; “What am doing? Where is this going?” which lead to “Why am I even in college in the first place?” Ending with “Oh my god I’m wasting my life and I’m gonna be alone forever”.

By the time Grayson had made it home that night, you were huddled up in the living room sofa under a blanket, your laptop open in your lap and snacks all over the table a couch while “Isn’t she lovely” by Stevie Wonder played on your phone as you tried your best not to burst into tears at the thought of never finding a boyfriend.

“Whoa, I don’t remember getting my invite to this slumber party.” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag onto the single sofa next to yours.

You slumped your shoulders. “It’s not a slumber party, it’s a pity party.”

“Oh?” He sat himself down on the sofa. “Who for?”

“Me, who else?” You wallowed, stuffing some more popcorn into your mouth.

“Why, did you get marks back?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a bit concerned at the volume of popcorn you were putting into your mouth with each bite.

“No, but what’s the point? I already know I’m doing bad.” You slumped backwards into the couch, just wishing you could be swallowed by the pillows and cushions.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your knee, looking at you seriously now. He knew you. Your general melt downs he was used to, but this was different. He could tell something was wrong. “You okay?”

You sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter and pausing the song so you could think straight. “You don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You sighed, slipping your legs out from under you and dangling them off the couch. “Okay, um..” Grayson’s hand had fallen away, and you suddenly felt like rubbing the spot on your leg where it had been. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been so busy lately, and it’s just gotten me thinking about my life in general. And how I haven’t gone out on a date in like…” You had to stop and think, and started laughing after a few seconds. “In so long I can’t even remember. Wow, god.” You sunk back into the couch. “I miss dating.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yea?”

“Yeah, you know,” You waved your hands around vaguely. “The whole excitement of it. Getting to dress up and look all nice. Feeling all pretty.” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head and laughed. “But you know, not that I need the reminder. I’m obviously hot as fuck.” You gestured to yourself, highlighting your nest of hair and your stained sweatshirt. You waited for him to laugh, but he just continued to look at you with that weirdly deep expression.

“What?”

“How about I take you on a date?”

You blinked at him, then started to chuckle, confused. “Huh?”

“You know, as friends. But I’ll give you like, the whole experience.”

You almost spit at that. “The ‘whole experience’?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll get all dressed up, go out to a nice place for dinner or something.”

You sat up now, your eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Why not? It’s a friday. If you have stuff to do you can always do it later.”

“You know where that mindset gets me, Dolan.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He smiled. “Plus, you deserve a fun night.”

You scoffed. “Yea, but not with a boyfriend or anything. With my roommate.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Incredibly.”

“God just shut up and go change.”

You laughed. “I— You know what? What the heck.” You got up, and he did with you. “Ah, okay!” You gave him a quick squeeze before running to your room, and his eyes followed after you, a gentle smile on his lips.

…

He’d done the whole shebang. He got dressed in a nice dress shirt and clean black jeans, something you’d actually never seen him wear before. He’d somehow gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which, you weren’t even sure where or how he’d gotten them, because you couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes to get ready. Nonetheless, he truly was the gentleman you had never expected. This was Grayson, the guy you watched old disney movies with and cried with during finals. He was the one you’d eat whole pints of ice cream with and play The Last of Us with and helped you master. He certainly wasn’t the one who was supposed to be complimenting you on your dress and taking you out to nice dinners. But here he was, doing just that.

He’d parked his car and was now escorting you inside this tiny but upscale italian restaurant, simple but elegant. As you entered through the glass door, the dazzling chandelier above the waiting area along with the gorgeous red sconces blew you away.

“Grayson how did you get a place like this on such short notice?” You whispered to him, gripping his arm, a bit intimidated by all the fancy folk waiting inside.

“I know some people.” He responded, a small smile on his lips.

You slapped his arm. “As if, you don’t even know the name of the Starbucks barista on campus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be cool?” You stared at him waiting for the response, and he sighed. “This place is fairly new. Not that many people know about it yet, so it’s pretty easy to get a reservation.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“Found it when I was looking for a place to take Sarah to.”

“Oh my god that girl from your Kinesiology class?” You looked at him with wide eyes and a grin on your face. “No way! I didn’t think you’d grow the balls to ask her out.”

“Hey,” He said, but you laughed. “Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I was just checking it out.”

“Well either way, she’s going to love this place, it’s so extravagant.” You made it to the front and Grayson informed the woman standing there of his reservation. She escorted you both inside and brought you to a table next to one of the windows. She’d dropped off two glasses of water and menus for you both to look at in the meantime. You peaked at the one in front of you, and your eyes grew again.

“Gray, did you happen to look at the prices before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.” He flipped through his casually, as if he wasn’t exasperated at the large numbers printed on the cards.

“Are you serious? What are you, made of money?”

“Hey, I promised you a fun night, right? I can make a few sacrifices.”

A young man came up to your table, and you both gave him your order. You ended up choosing the cheapest thing on the menu, because a) you didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Grayson, but also b) you barely knew what any of it was anyways. He left, you both chatted for a bit, and he returned with your meals, both of them being some sort of pasta that you were a bit embarrassed about not knowing the differences between.

Grayson didn’t really know that much either, to be quite honest, but for some reason he felt the need to impress you with this place. And he was pretty giddy about the fact that it was working.

But throughout this, you had kept staring at him, frankly a bit shocked at the whole situation you both were in. You had to shake your head to get your thoughts straight, but ended up giggling. “So, you always this sweet with the girls you take out on dates?”

He bit his cheek, but decided to play along, lowering his fork and leaning in towards you to hear you over the chatter in the restaurant. “Why, you interested?”

“No, just curious what it is that Grayson Dolan pulls to get a girl.” You crossed your arms on the table, on elbow propped up with your chin resting on your hand. “Tell me, you have any moves?”

He laughed. “What, that I just use with every girl?”

“Don’t act so modest. There’s gotta be something. What gets them drooling?” You asked a playful smile on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. “Okay fine, um.” He cleared his throat. “It usually starts out the same, I ask them about themself. Where they’re from, what they do— like, okay. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You snorted. “Are we doing this? Are we playing this out?”

“Yesss, go with it.”

You laughed. “Okay, uh well. I like to paint sometimes.”

“Yea? What kind of stuff?”

“Well I used to do more traditional stuff, my parents were really into those pretty realism paintings. I’d do flowers and fruits and whatever, but every since, I guess junior year of high school, I’ve been doing more pop art pieces? And a lot more self-indulgent stuff. And I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, but also realizing that Grayson had his soft eyes fixed on yours.

“What?”

His eyes widened a little, as if you’d shook him out of a daze, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, uh... “ He smiled. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Your face flushed a little bit, and you looked away from him, taking a sip of water to use it as your excuse. “Ah, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Anyways, so do you still do pop art now? Or has it changed since you’ve started college?”

You blinked at him, then covered your mouth as you opened it in slight shock. “Wow, that was really good.”

He laughed. “Yea?”

“The eye thing was good on it’s own but to know you were actually listening to me? I’m impressed.” You nodded in approval.

He tilted his head, chuckling. “Thank you, thank you.” He took another bite of food before continuing. “So what about you? You have any moves?”

You snorted again. “Gray, I barely go out on enough dates in the first place, much less enough to establish any moves.”

“Why are you always so modest? You can tell me you know.”

You laughed. “Yeah duh I know, but I’m genuinely serious this time. I don’t get asked out all that often.” You shrugged. “It’s why I get excited when I do get to go on dates. It’s fun.”

Grayson was the one who couldn’t help but stare now. He blinked at you, unable to really comprehend what you were saying to him. How could people not want to ask you out? You were incredible. Looking at you now, your hair up in a dainty bun, a few curls falling down the sides of your face; your pretty off the shoulder dress that matched your deep magenta-maroon lipstick. And he wasn’t lying about your eyes, they really were so pretty. They sparkled, even more so when you were laughing. Which was usually accompanied by your scrunched up nose, making you look like a cute little bunny. He smiled at the thought, as he loved seeing that expression on your face.

“Huh.” he said out loud then, not realizing when it was he had starting noticing your small actions like that so much.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him, and suddenly, seeing those same eyes he always saw staring at him, he felt almost light headed. His face felt warm, seeing you look at him like that. He was almost afraid that you could see what he was thinking. But why would that be a problem unless…

Grayson slowly widened his eyes. Did he seriously have feelings for Y/N?

“Nothing, sorry.” He said with a smile, looking back down at his food. Sure, he’d always thought you were amazing. You were gorgeous, sure, and you made him laugh. And yea he loved hanging out with you, watching movies and playing video games, and he adored being your roommate, having late night conversations and spending all your free time together…

He wanted to mentally smack himself in the face. Shit, he had feelings for you.

This was going to be a long night.