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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 3 years

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[CN- Season 2] Victor And MC- Chapter 17- Eng Translation (Part 1)

“....Victor is clearly not in front of me right now, yet I feel that he can always see me.”

⌚Warning:⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a chapter that is yet to be released in the global server. Don't continue under the cut if you don't wish to be spoiled! (◍•ᴗ•◍)

✧ PART 2: HERE!

✧ NOTE ✧

Highly recommend checking out the bullet point “plot review” translated by @cheri-translates ♡

Please please please remember to revisit CH [27-11] and CH [28-2] of S1 in case your memory of the details have become foggy, before continuing under the cut. Because there’s another very detailed re-enactment similar to CH 10. This one is just.... even more sad. 🥺

ー

✧ [CH 17- 1] ✧

At MC’s Home- 2 days after Hunter Game officially ended: While checking the news MC finds it’s been officially confirmed that the illicit drug “Small Syringes” was used in the Hunter Game and the portal mentions LFG’s acquisition scandal-- STF is going to conduct a thorough investigation on the issue.

Seeing rumors about LFG still circling overwhelmingly, MC gets mad.

However, soon finds the news => LFG’s PR department has officially stated they have no relation with the Hunter Game and they will take legal action against the rumors.

Being able to make the decisive and accurate strategic-decisions in the first instance - this is precisely Victor’s style.

Hearing this, I feel slightly relieved.

MC sends Victor a text praising his vision with an “admiration” emoticon.

She sends him another text saying the media might interview her soon on the matter. She feels public take-over right now might not be the best idea and asks for Victor’s opinion.

Looking at the unanswered dialog box, I sigh lightly.

The chat history is still stuck at ten days ago.

At first I thought it was because the Hunter Game broke off the signal. But now it seems that, the messages have indeed sunk into the sea without a trace.

The sudden outburst of the situation got everyone caught up into a tailspin. Although I believe Victor can guarantee his own safety, I am still a little worried.

I hesitate for a moment, but still type that line I want to ask.

MC’s message: “Victor, why haven’t you contacted me lately? What’s wrong?”

The phone screen goes dark in the process of waiting, and doesn’t light up again.

It seems that the more one speculates absent-mindedly about a certain possibility, the more those overlooked minor details will arise in one fell swoop.

For some reason, I recall that earlier phone call that came out of the blue, warning me repeatedly to not be reckless.

Now that I think about it, Victor at that time always gave a kind of strange feeling, which I couldn’t tell.

MC: ....Just make a phone call to hear his voice. It cannot be regarded as contacting rashly, I think.

Thinking of this, I pick up the phone without hesitation.

At the same time, Goldman calls and tells MC => Victor has asked her to come to LFG with a report at 10.

MC: Victor? He wants to see me? What else did he say....

I still haven’t finished my words, and there is the sound of a flurry of busy signal coming from the other end of the receiver. Goldman has already coldly hung up the phone.

MC: ....

I’m not at all surprised being treated with such indifference.

But what is the proposal? I don’t seem to have any project recently that needs to be reported on....

I’m a little perplexed for a while. I open my work email-inbox, and search back and forth, but no luck either.

MC: Strange, did I miss any task?

With two hours remaining from 10 o’clock, I no longer struggle. After washing up quickly, I stuff a notebook in my bag, and hurriedly get out of the door.

After all, what I can be certain of is that, I will be able to see Victor very soon.

-✧-

MC arrives at LFG: Goldman continues to coldly ignore her greetings. :<

However, another young man MC is unfamiliar with, leads her to Victor’s office.

After taking in the sight inside the office, my heart inexplicably thumps for a while in confusion.

Obviously it’s daytime, but the blinds are tightly folded, making the room appear exceptionally dim.

Warning strips are attached to the desk and the bookcase on either side, the contrasting color making this already serious office appear even more oppressive.

A strange feeling bubbles up in my heart. I have a vague feeling that this place has already been maintaining this state for a while.

I avert my line of sight, gazing towards the familiar black office chair.

The chair is empty.

Victor is not here.

ー

✧ [CH 17- 3] ✧

Bewildered at the sight, MC asks the young man about Victor.

The man explains Victor only told them to ask MC to come at this time, no other details.

While MC is still perplexed as to why someone else but Goldman took her inside Victor’s office, the man introduces himself as Lawyer Duan JunJie (Caerus introduced in CH 10) and tells MC about the arrangements Victor has made.

Upon MC’s questioning, he tells MC that after the Hunter Game was made public, no one has seen Victor. STF came to investigate here and they came last night as well.

The man leaves saying it’s time for his break, asks MC to make an appointment at the front desk if she needs something.

MC bitterly jokes to herself that all of Victor’s employees are time-conscious like him LOL and closes the office door.

My heart also sinks immediately following the light that has been isolated from me.

The phone is still quiet. I still haven’t received any reply from Victor.

However, in this seemingly blank period of time, he still has been very eventful ー from all the big strategic-decisions made by LFG, to the small ones as replacing the person to receive me.

In a daze, I have the illusion that he is still watching me from somewhere.

This makes me calm down slightly. I take a deep breath, and start to size up the office in front of me.

Despite feeling something amiss, MC doesn’t find anything in particular and she realizes Victor doesn’t want anyone else to find the clues. As such, she suddenly recalls somethingー

MC: ....Proposal!

Since Victor has asked me to come “to report,” I decide to walk through in accordance with the usual sequence of the process, and give it a try.

I use the notebook as the project planner, and gently place it on the table according to my usual habit.

MC: ....Mm?

I stare blankly at the tabletop.

Most of Victor’s office supplies are stored and organized properly. However, there are exceptions too, such as ー the fountain pen he uses to sign documents.

Perhaps because it’s often used, this pen has always been placed on the table by him. But now it’s inserted inside the pen holder.

In normal times, this kind of overly suspicious “looking for difference” would certainly be complained on by Victor.

But right now, anything unusual might be a reminder left behind by him.

I pick up the fountain pen, and examine it carefully, but I don’t find anything special.

MC: Next, Victor will be attending to the documents while drinking coffee.

He is used to putting the coffee cup on his left-hand side, just incase he accidentally spills it while writing. But at the moment, the cup is on the right.

Yet there is nothing unusual about it either.

MC: Am I thinking too much....

I put the cup back in his left-hand side, and continue with the process.

MC: Normally speaking, he would have asked me to look for a place to sit down first while he is reading the proposal.

I turn around to the direction of the sofa not far away.

A porcelain vase is usually placed on the table next to the sofa, and flowers are placed there when esteemed guests pay a visit.

Occasionally I also bring him flowers to “adjust his mood.” So that vase has always been kept here.

But now, there is only a stack of folders in its place.

I open the folder and flip through it, inside it is full of some insignificant files.

There are even a few of the first drafts of my proposals from a long time ago, which still carry the markings he casually made on them.

These are some of the old immature cases I’ve gone to. I didn’t expect Victor to still keep them.

The familiar handwriting at the annotations fades slowly along with the paper.

After turning over a few pages at random, I finally notice something different.

There is a handwriting that appears to be inadvertently marked with some words, but the color of the ink is dark, and it must have been added recently.

There are several pages in a row that have marks like this. I hastily link up the marked words.

MC: (reading out) “Protect yourself from exposure to NW”....

MC: !

It’s NW again.... It seems the recent events are all connected with NW.

Why would Victor come in contact with them to some extent?

And for someone as efficient as he is, he is using such conservative methods to indirectly convey this to me....

There is only one possibility.

The situation he is now facing is very urgent, leaving him with no way to appear in person.

Nervousness and restlessness occupy my mind, and my heart begin to beat violently.

I immediately check all the other papers thoroughly as well. When I turn to the last page, a post-it note comes off the glue, and falls off.

It’s a pink sticky note with my own handwriting on it which says, “What are we eating later.”

I remember it was during one of those long and tedious meetings. I got so bored while listening that I tore up a sticky note, and passed it to Victor.

At that time, I only received a silent expression. But the sticky note before me now has an additional line of address, and also a line of reminder.

MC: (reading the note) “After you’re finished, head over there first”....

MC: Is it for me to meet up here after I’ve finished handling the matter?

MC finds the address somewhat familiar, but can’t put her finger on it and decides to focus on what Victor needs her to do first.

MC thinks since STF came to search, the clues Victor has left behind might have gotten affected, but she’s also certain Victor will definitely leave something behind that cannot be destroyed.

She tries to think from “Victor’s perspective” and thinks if the “BOSS” will follow her method and use pinhole camera like she uses during BS missions.

After searching every corner of the office, MC indeed finds a hidden camera.

From the contents she finds => three men dressed in NW uniforms asking Victor to come with them. Despite dropping some tart on if NW really wants to be involved with a notorious company like LFG, Victor goes with them without putting any defense.

ー

✧ [CH 17- 4] ✧

I stare at the image before me in shock, chills running down from my heart to my fingertips.

Could it be that he couldn’t be contacted during this period of time is because he was taken away by NW?

My inside is in a chaos, as I hastily browse through the call log and check the time in the CCTV footage along with itー

It’s the same day.

Victor (phone call flashback): Remember, regardless of what happens, don’t panic.

Victor (phone call flashback): Don’t always be reckless, running into dangers....

Victor (phone call flashback): And trust my judgements.

As it turns out, he didn’t make that call on a whim. He was saying these to warn me.

[ Note: The call MC is referring to, and has referred to several times before is the call Victor made in CH 13ー HERE! ]

If I were a bit more attentive at that time, could I have heard his reflecting overtones sooner?

Worry and annoyance fill my heart. But at this very moment, I don’t have enough time to think about it.

MC fast-forwards the video and finds NW also did an investigation in Victor’s office.

MC opens another video, and she notices => in between getting up and leaving, Victor tapped on a drawer.

MC gets it: She pulls open that drawer and after rummaging through she finds the documents related to LFG’s acquisition of the “Small Syringes.”

MC realizes: The reason Victor is targeted at the moment could only be this, and from how Victor protected these documents, NW was looking for these. But she’s at a loss for what he wants her to do right now.

And the next bit: As much as it shows their strong understanding and chemistry- it’s just sad.... really sad. ;-;

I look at that absolutely empty chair in front of me, seeking to turn my brain to keep pace with his train of thoughts.

Victor (in MC’s mind): Not letting them find the documents is the first step. The documents are the crucial evidence. Thus, the second step should be bringing out their implicit values as soon as possible.

Faintly, even though Victor isn’t sitting there, I seem to be able to see his silhouette ー saying word by word that he has taught me in regular days.

Victor (in MC’s mind): And this is something you’re precisely the expert at. Make reasonable use of these documents and the information at hand, make sure that they are disseminated as far wide range as possible within certain channels, and guide the direction of the public opinion.

When analyzing whether or not to release the assassination list, Victor also did as such, guiding me step by step.

Victor (in MC’s mind): Without action, there must be no gain. Handle the matter calmly and then trust my judgement.

It's extremely quite inside the office, but I can always hear his voice.

MC: Okay, CEO Victor.

I unconsciously raise the corners of my lips, seemingly if only one thinks of his voice, there in lies the power to soothe peoples’ hearts.

I stand on the opposite side of the table. As though submitting the report, similar to the ordinary days, I analyze the questions in the article one by one, which Victor has left behind for me.

Victor (in MC’s mind): For what reason I could be hiding them?

MC: This is the actual fact about LFG’s acquisition of “Small Syringe”, which can entirely cast away the relationship between LFG and the Hunter Game.

Victor (in MC’s mind): What do I want to use them for?

I ponder for a moment, and give my answer.

MC: ....Using the company’s transmission channels to conduct pressure.

Victor (in MC’s mind): How to conduct pressure?

MC: You allowed yourself to have ten days before contacting me, which indicates you’ve never gotten away from NW. However, there is no key evidence to prove that LFG’s acquisition is related to the Hunter Game. Even if it’s for investigation and interrogation, you shouldn’t have been kept all along as well. What's more, according to the general circumstances, the NW also doesn’t have the right to either search or arrest privately. NW’s myriad of actions should be called into question.

I finish in one breath, and again look at the document in front of me.

MC: In addition, although it is not yet suitable to disclose the whole truth.... But these data can just prove that LFG has been carrying baseless accusations.

MC: Victor is too.

I look at that unoccupied chair, and suddenly realize that Victor has prepared everything so thoughtfully that he seems to have anticipated this day a long time ago.

According to Victor’s usual nature, all the things that might make me anxious, he will not easily let me know.

But the fact that he is now letting me participate to this extent explains his current situation mustn’t be optimistic, and he needs my help.

Although I always cannot help but think, if I paid attention to his abnormality a bit earlier, and thought of something sooner, maybe things would have been different....

But now I am moving forward with Victor’s plan step by step. Instead of repenting and redressing my errors, I should believe in him more.

I breath out slowly, and finally sit down in the chair opposite him somewhat wearily, flopping down on the table.

There are many things waiting for me to do. But I still need some strength and courage to withstand the restlessness in the depth of my heart.

Reminiscing and re-enactment of S1 CH 27 and 28 starts.

♫ Music changes to: Victor’s S2 theme ♫

It’s dark in the room, which inexplicably makes me remember a long-awaited reunion ー a very long time ago.

My eyes were blindfolded by the fabric. But I still impatiently wanted to confirm that, the person in front of me was him.

I wanted to hear his voice, wanted to hear him call my name.

....In this way, I can feel at ease.

And for this reason, I also made a promise with him in a very childish way.

Thinking of the scenario at that time, I cannot help but laugh a little, and follow after the memory of the action by stretching out my hand.

MC: At that time, I certainly didn’t expect that there will be one day, when the dignified CEO Victor will also take the initiative to ask for my help.

MC: Although I still get called a dummy now, but maybe I have matured a little bit, right?

I grin reluctantly at the empty chair.

MC: However, still haven’t gotten quite mature enough. Also there’s no way to be like you, to be as steady as you are and holding your feet at all times.

MC: So.... if I still want to make a pinky promise with you now, would you feel it’s very childish?

Victor’s voice message: You’re surely doing something childish again right now, aren’t you.

Suddenly, Victor’s voice rings out in the quiet office.

I freeze.

Amid the silence, the landline’s light flickers on the desk, and his voice transmits outwards leisurely.

That is a message from Victor.

MC: Why exactly at this time....

Victor’s voice message: I’m naturally well aware of what you can do, to what extent you can accomplish and how long it might take.

As though having a conversation, his reply directly picks up on my question.

Victor is clearly not in front of me right now, yet I feel that he can always see me.

Victor’s voice message: But I guess, you’d now want to seize the opportunity to make me promise you something again, isn’t it?

Victor’s voice message: With your level of enthusiasm for childish things, pinky promise is the most probable thing you’d choose at the moment.

The sound of clothes rustling comes from the speaker. Mysteriously and inexorably, I always feel that I seem to be aware of what he is doing.

Victor’s voice message: About the reward you want, wait until the matter is resolved and then let me know in person.

The sunlight outside the window seems to have become a bit stronger, making its way through a small crack in the shutter and landing on his chair, slightly dazzling to the eye.

Victor (in the flashback of S1 CH 28-2): “There, pinky promise.”

As I recall, he once said this to me softly.

And at this very moment, his voice continues to rise from the telephone, slowly passing through the speaker.

Victor’s voice message: Now I can make the pinky promise with you.

The memory of that response seems to have traversed time in an instant, and falls back in my ears, carrying it with a reassuring tone.

I seem to truly see Victor, who is still sitting here. He then stands up, holding out his pinky finger in front of me.

And hooks together with my outstretched pinky finger.

Victor’s voice message: Aren’t you going to say anything?

MC: ....

I take a deep breath, as though I have drawn infinite courage.

MC: I promise you, I will do everything I can to resolve this matter, so that you can come back as soon as possible.

MC: I won’t hide behind you this time.

MC: However, you must be safe and sound until I settle this matter.

MC: We’ve pinky promised, and neither is allowed to break our promises.

The air is quiet for a long time. Victor seems to have left a long time for my “bold, visionary words.”

After waiting for a very long time, along with a reassuring, soft laughter ー he drops the final reply for this conversation that has transcended time.

Victor: Don’t make me wait for you too long, MC.

[ T/N: Excuse me while I UGLY CRY AND BREAK THE FOURTH WALL😭 ]

ー

✧ [CH 17- 6] ✧

At MC’s office: MC returns with the documents, and discuses with Anna, Kiki, Willow, Minor on how to release the truth about LFG’s acquisition scandal, and create pressure on NW to release Victor, and thinks even if Victor isn’t with NW at the moment, it will help him in taking his next step.

After working on the report till evening ー the news reaches 100M views, and 10K discussion threads in a ridiculously short amount of time after its publication, and the public opinion heavily leans towards LFG and Victor throughout the night.

The next morning ー unsurprisingly, all the portals are vanished, and NW hasn’t made any public response. MC becomes certain that Victor is still under NW’s capture, and gets anxious again.

As such, MC goes to the address Victor told her to, and realizes it’s Grandpa Chuck’s house.

Grandpa Chuck: Child, you’ve finally arrived.

MC: Grandpa Chuck....

After the world restarted, many events have proceeded towards entirely different paths at the intersection of fate.

This time, I didn’t pay Grandpa Chuck the unauthorized visit, and disturb his tranquil life.

But I didn’t expect that Victor would guide me here to meet him in person.

Grandpa Chuck: Do you know who I am?

I come back to my senses, realize I’ve lost my tongue, and smile awkwardly.

MC: I know. You’re my dad’s friend. And Victor....

Grandpa Chuck releases a gentle laugh, and nods.

Grandpa Chuck: He’s got everything arranged. Come with me.

I follow behind Grandpa Chuck, being a little puzzled in my mind. What did Victor arrange here with Grandpa Chuck?

Walking into the cabin, the memories of what was once here come rolling out in a display before my eyes at this moment.

The wooden furniture reflects a shimmering gentle glow under the sunlight ー neat and warm.

It’s as if everything is the way I remember.

I think of the first time I entered the other dimension. I thought I stayed here for only about two or three hours, and Victor almost rushed in because he was worried about me.

At the moment, the scene from the past comes floating in my mind in a roll, and a corner of my heart instantly becomes soft.

[ Note: MC is referring to S1 CH 11-22 ] :<

MC exchanges greetings with Grandpa Chuck, and they talk about her fathers’ whereabouts. After reassuring her, Grandpa Chuck changes the subject.

Grandpa Chuck: Victor came to me earlier, and requested me to do him a favor. He asked me to let you stay here for the time being. When the time comes, he will come to pick you up.

Grandpa Chuck: In fact, after your father left, I’ve never come here either.

Grandpa Chuck: I promised Victor. On one hand, it’s because I also wanted to meet you, and come here to have a look.

Grandpa Chuck: On the other hand....

Grandpa Chuck laughs as he looks at me.

Grandpa Chuck: He really values you, and wants to ensure you are safe.

Victor has paved the way for my safety from beginning to the end.

He knew that once I announced all these, concerning the NW always keeping a low-profile, it will be more than just a provocation.

After I try to force NW to return Victor under the pressure of the public opinion, and to provide everyone with an explanation, they will certainly not leave the matter at that.

Therefore, he asked me to come to Grandpa Chuck’s place immediately after I’ve completed the task. But....

NW has never come forward to declare their position. In addition, they are pressing down the level of heat.

As for Victor’s whereabouts and well-being, no one knows yet, and the entire situation of the matter has entered a deadlock.

Thinking about this, I raise my eyes, and solemnly shake my head at Grandpa Chuck.

MC: Grandpa Chuck, I can’t stay here.

Grandpa Chuck smiles, as if he has anticipated my answer long ago.

Grandpa Chuck: Victor was right. You really won’t agree to this easily.

Grandpa Chuck: He asked for you to trust his judgement. If you have any objections, wait for him to return and then protest.

Saying this, Grandpa Chuck comes forward to hand MC the cup her dad once painted as her birthday gift, but at that moment the entire cabin starts shaking.

People from NW appear out of nowhere. One of them holds a knife to MC’s neck, and pushes her towards pitch black darkness.

MC arrives at a place three sides surrounded by neat white walls, a large mirror at one side, and people in white uniforms.

A man in uniform shoots her a cold glance, and reveals the mirror to be a clear glass:

I look out the glass, my breath stalling tightly.

Sitting opposite, Victor is alone amid a land of darkness.

The room takes up a large area, the emptiness sweeping away in the environment inexplicably reveals a lifeless atmosphere.

The wall right behind him is full of display screens. Surprisingly, all the contents of the images are of Victor at this moment.

I mechanically avert my line of sight, looking towards Victor once again.

On his wrists, the handcuffs reflect off an ice-cold and suffocating light.

ー

✧ [CH 17- 7] ✧

In the dimly lit interrogation room, Victor sits silently on the central chair.

The cold light of the chandelier encases the position of his seat, reminiscent of an incorporeal circle of pictures, reflecting the handcuffs on his wrists even more icily.

I want to call out his name, but a man with a tang knife holds the blade directly against my neck.

??: Don’t worry. This is a one-way glass. He can’t see you.

That man appearing to have a special identity warns me. But I don’t have the mood to care about his words, and just keep my eyes glued on Victor.

Although I have already anticipated the possibility of him being held captive, but seeing him being handcuffed at the interrogation table still causes a burst of dull ache in my heart.

His demeanor is still calm and collected, but he is unable to cover up his fatigue.

Victor should not be sitting here.

At this moment, he seems to have sensed someone on the other side of the glass, and slowly lifts his eyes to look over.

He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone on our side. I know that he won’t see me either.

??: Good Morning, CEO Victor.

That man who possibly is a commanding officer, takes a step forward, and starts talking in a deep voice.

??: Today’s breakfast was pretty good, huh? Once in a while, living this kind of life where you don’t need to worry about work, isn’t it nice too?

Victor: [sarcastically] Someone has been worrying about LFG on behalf of me all along. That indeed makes it a lot easier.

Victor opens his mouth without changing his expression. The man smiles lightly.

NW Commanding Officer: I don’t have the capabilities of CEO Victor. I simply wish to find out about some situations, that’s all.

With that said, he walks away while crossing his arms. A team member next to him takes a step forward, and speaks in a business-like manner.

??: Custody number A021, Victor. Your interrogation will begin next.

That team member speaks while spreading out a record book in his hand.

I glance at it from my peripheral vision, only to see that the words written on it are densely packed, and there are no less than dozens of pages!

??: What is the purpose of LFG’s centralized acquisition of “Small Syringes” in the last few months?

Victor: Commercial secret. No comment. Even if you ask me ten times a day, my answer still won’t change.

Victor’s expression is indifferent, and there isn’t a trace of ripples in his tone.

The person who is interrogating him doesn’t care, and continues to ask the next question as before, akin to an ice-cold machine.

??: What is the connection between LFG and the Hunter Game?

Victor: There is no connection. LFG has never heard of the game you are talking about.

??: A few months ago, you used a fake identity to place a big bet in the Hunter Game Region 9 Level 2 tournament. Since then, LFG has begun to acquire the manufacturers of the “Small Syringes” in large quantities.

Victor: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

NW Commanding Officer: Mr. Victor, don’t forget, we have the documents in hand which can prove that you have placed a bet.

The commanding officer next to me suddenly interrupts, his tone taking a bit of toughness.

Victor: It seems that, the NW commanding officer doesn’t have a good memory. I have already said the same thing many, many times. LFG doesn’t have the slightest bit of concern about the Hunter Game. If you must splash this bucket of dirty water at LFG, in that case, LFG will also investigate this matter to the end.

The conversation between both parties still continues while my heart tightens.

All the signs prove that they have already conducted such an interrogation many times.

I tightly pinch the palm of my own hand.

For so many days now, Victor has maintained a cautious state. I also cannot act blindly without thinking.

People from NW were able to find Grandpa Chuck’s cabin, which indicates they have the means to master Victor’s plans.

Now they have brought me here, making me witness Victor’s interrogation process and concealing my existence from him. They certainly have some other purpose.

At this moment, I’d better remain calm, and observe the changes in the situation.

NW Commanding Officer: Mr. Victor, I believe our “communication” appears to have some deviations. We haven’t asked you to come here wishing to stand on the opposite side with LFG. As long as CEO Victor co-operates with our investigation, and hands over the things we want, you may leave at any time.

Is NW trying to use LFG to threaten Victor?

I nervously look towards Victor, but he merely raises his lips faintly.

Victor: With NW’s abilities and means, what can’t be found? I am here. The doors of LFG are wide open to you all. If you still haven’t gotten what you want, then it means I simply don’t have that thing.

The NW commanding officer’s complexion changes slightly, a cloud of shadow fleeting past his eyes.

His gaze sweeps over me, then turns his head to look towards Victor once again.

NW Commanding Officer: CEO Victor probably isn’t aware. This news has been very lively over the past two days. [MC’s company Name], the company you invested in, reported several news articles with a series of corrections about LFG’s malicious acquisition of the “Small Syringes.” Even, the footage of CEO Victor being taken away by us was made public.

He pauses for a moment, his lips curling up in an almost imperceptible smile.

NW Commanding Officer: Especially the person in charge for [MC’s Company Name], MC. Her style of doing things is not only in accordance with your high efficiency, and accuracy but also is able to co-operate with you without showing any trace. Such “tacit understanding,” I presume CEO Victor must be very pleased.

My heart clenches tightly for a split second.

Victor: Making reasonable judgements and handling the news is the most basic professional ethic of the media workers. Since she carried out an incorrect report before, she ought to be correcting it as well.

Victor: This kind of mending the fold after the sheep are lost manner of handling things can only show that her performance in the past few years has been barely passable.

[ Note: Victor uses the idiom “亡羊补牢” (wáng yáng bǔ láo), which literally translates to “to mend the fold after the sheep are lost,” which conveys the idea of “acting belatedly” or “better late than never.” I decided to keep the idiom as it is, cause it sounds cooler LOL ]

Victor: As for the “tacit understanding,” it’s out of question. Even if you have seen something or misunderstood something, it’s none of my business.

MC: ....

Reason tells me that he is saying this to protect me.... but his icy tone still makes my heart inexplicably a little sour.

NW Commanding Officer: I can understand Mr. Victor being in such a hurry to draw a line. After all, this Miss MC is indeed very special.

NW Commanding Officer: CEO Victor has acquired so many “Small Syringes.” Presumably, he is also aware of the existence of CORE, isn’t he. We found that there might be a bit of relation between Miss MC and CORE.

Victor’s expression doesn’t change, seemingly not being interested in what he has said in the least.

The commanding officer doesn’t care a bit either, and continues to speak minding his own business.

NW Commanding Officer: CORE doesn’t exist in her genes, nor can it be ruled out either. And, CEO Victor hasn’t looked for the CORE as urgently as the other people. Did he figure this out already at an earlier time?

NW Commanding Officer: It’s no wonder that you care about her so much.

Hearing his words, my eyes widen in bewilderment.

How did they arrive at this conclusion? Could it be from that experiment they did on me earlier?

Furthermore, what does he mean by “doesn’t exist, nor can it be ruled out either?”

I subconsciously look towards Victor.

Although his expression hasn’t changed in any way, but a momentary hesitation still flashes through his eyes.

However, he still pricks up his eyebrows, and replies unhurriedly.

Victor: As it turns out, NW mustered large force in bringing me over here and make me listen to this story. But it’s a shame that I don’t have any interest.

Victor: As far as it’s concerned, for LFG, [MC’s Company Name] is just one of the numerous investment projects. Capital only recognizes profit. Apart from this, nothing is irreplaceable.

Victor: If this investment project were to be replaced, I would naturally care about the other person in the same way.

The NW commanding officer nods and smiles, looking as if he has finally heard the answer of his satisfaction.

NW Commanding Officer: As expected of someone who is able to reign the business world at such a young age. I quite admire CEO Victor’s personality.

NW Commanding Officer: Indeed, no one is forever trustworthy. Am I correct, Miss MC?

Turning his head, the commanding officer gives me an alarming glance, his tone carrying it with a faint ridicule.

Without waiting for me to respond, he presses some push button. The one-way mirror between us rises little by little.

Victor’s gaze is subconsciously casted over, fully colliding into my gaze, and finally landing on the blade resting across my neck.

NW Commanding Officer: The two of you must have a lot of catching up to do. We won’t disturb anymore then.

The commanding officer gives a meaningful glance, gesturing for the man to put the knife down. The ice-cold edge of the knife streaks across my skin.

NW Commanding Officer: Oh, I’m sorry Miss MC. You aren’t hurt, are you? He is a bit stupid. But I don’t think CEO Victor should care about this trivial matter. After all.... “Nothing is irreplaceable.”

After saying that, he leads that man away, leaving Victor and I on the two sides of the spacious and empty room.

I catch a glimpse of Victor’s momentary astonishment. My eyes unnaturally circle in the air, and finally rest back on his face.

Victor seems to be wanting to speak, but in the end he doesn’t say anything either.

We look at each other in silence, the atmosphere becoming somewhat awkward momentarily.

ー

✧ [CH 17- 8] ✧

After looking at each other for a few seconds in silence, the worries for Victor still overflow out of my heart.

I shoot a glance towards the four corners of the room, and find surveillance cameras in all corners.

Our current state might still be under the surveillance of NW.

I have originally wanted to open my mouth more cautiously, but without the glass barrier, the dazzling handcuffs on Victor’s wrist appear even more jarring.

The worries and distress I have just swallowed come rushing back to my heart, and I cannot help wanting to ask him about his situation.

MC: Victor, you....

Victor: [softly and hurriedly] Didn’t you go to that address?

I have just opened my mouth when Victor’s slightly angry tone interrupts me.

I meet his gaze, and in there apart from a little suppressed anger seems to be the exact same concerns as mine.

MC: I did go to Grandpa Chuck’s place, but there a bit of mishap happened. A person from NW broke into Grandpa Chuck’s other dimension and brought me here.

Victor: ....Going to such great lengths.

Victor snorts coldly, a bit of chilliness penetrating out of his eyes.

I scrutinize his expression, and word it carefully.

MC: But now that the public opinion is at LFG’s side, we should be able to get out of here soon. After all, NW doesn’t have the right to privately imprison either.

Victor: It seems that what the commanding officer said just now was right. You indeed have done a pretty good job.

Victor’s tone is indifferent, as though he really has pulled apart the ties with me.

But his slightly upward trailing voice still reveals a little bit of his true feelings.

I try hard to control my expression, and also pretend to speak indifferently.

MC: After all, I still have “basic professional ethics.” In addition, you have been here for so many days, no one approved my proposals.... It truly was a too much of a delayed job.

My volume gradually becomes small, and I blink at him inadvertently.

Victor: In that case, now I will give you an opportunity to report on your work during this period of time.

MC: Huh? Right now?

Victor: And also about the latest news. Since it’s your field of expertise, report on that too.

I am stunned for a moment. But after meeting his tranquil eyes, very quickly I retrieve my train of thoughts.

Victor is trapped here, and is unable to learn about quite a lot of information.

Conveniently, I walk over, and seize the opportunity to eye him up from top to bottom thoroughly.

Apart from the dazzling handcuffs, his body is completely clean, and there aren’t any traces of wounds. I breath a sigh of relief, and rapidly report the information that I have sorted out in my brain one by one.

MC: Actually, my follow-up report on the acquisition was not just in order to follow up on the truth of the matter. It was also because LFG got caught up with the negative public opinions related to the Hunter Game.

Victor: [voice drops strikingly] Hunter Game has been made public?

MC: Mm. During this time when you weren’t present, Loveland City launched a city-wide Hunter Game.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Victor suddenly takes a step closer to me.

Victor: [extremely soft and panicking tone™] City-wide? Did you participate too?

MC: The promoters of the game used peoples’ lives as bargaining chips. Almost all the citizens were forced to participate in the gameplay....

MC: But now the game has already come to an end, and majority of the people are also reinstating their regular lives.

MC: And I was even able to report the news on behalf of LFG. Don’t worry.

I gaze at the glistening emotions in Victor’s eyes, and give him a comforting smile.

Victor gently closes his eyes, as though he is suppressing something. When he starts speaking once again, he has already regained his tranquil tone.

Victor: Suddenly choosing to brave a huge risk like this, what is the purpose of the people behind the game?

I shoot glances a few times towards the surveillance cameras not far away, then stealthily move closer to him, lowering my volume.

MC: It’s in order to unseal the lighthouse. It’s one kind of relic-like existence, and it requires gathering up sufficient Evol energy to open....

I explain the concept of the lighthouse to Victor, and again mention the related information of Joker.

Victor seems to look pensive as he listens to my description.

Considering the situation before our eyes, I don’t have enough time to think much into it, and specially emphasize on NW’s activities at the Small Rock Reef.

MC: At present, NW has taken over the energy gathering system under the Small Rock Reef, and also has taken away the apparatus used to gather the Evol energy. The marked scale stopped approximately at 98% when the apparatus was taken away.

Victor knits his eyebrows, as though he is sorting out the information I have just said.

Victor: In other words, each stage of the Hunter Game is actually all about unsealing the lighthouse. And this time, Joker needs the power of the people of the entire city to unseal the lighthouse.

I nod, but Victor’s expression appears to be sinking.

MC: Is there something wrong?

Victor: Let me ask you. Suppose you are Joker, and you have spent so much time and energy in planning this thing. Now you can already see your success, but your plan has been wrecked. In that case, what is the first you’re going to do?

MC: I’m going to mentally rain curses on the person who wrecked my plans.

Victor: [sighs heavily and helplessly] ....

Victor seems to be chocking up all of a sudden, and casts me an obvious speechless expression.

Victor: Then what about the second thing?

MC: ....Perhaps I will try to give it a go another time? I’ve already accomplished to this stage, and it would feel quite hard to swallow this breath.

Victor: That’s right. At this juncture, he will not allow his plans to fall through the cracks.

MC: But now the game has already been made public. People from all walks of life in the society have fixed their attentions entirely on his actions. There shouldn’t be any place where he can continue to conduct the game, should there?

Victor: The “society” is so huge that inevitably there will be places where the others can’t see. Just like this secret prison. We were completely unaware of it beforehand too.

When Victor finishes speaking, we sink into a brief silence.

He is right. Joker has been in the dark all along. It is only then we became aware of his actions when we were affected by the waves.

And where he will continue this next game, we simply are unable to find out.

Just as we are pondering in silence, a loud bang sounds in our ears, and the ground also trembles slightly.

The alarm installed overhead is set in motion. The room immediately flickers red light, and the shrill sound of the alarm reverberates continuously.

MC: What’s going on?!

Just at this moment, the door of the interrogation room is quickly opened, and several NW members walk in.

??: Please come with us.

When they have finished speaking, they approach us without any explanation and pull us along, preparing to take us away.

Victor stands rooted in his original position and doesn’t move, his expression remains unchanged as he speaks.

Victor: Wait a minute. I want to see your commanding officer.

??: The commanding officer has important matters to attend to at the moment, and has accounted us to assist with your transfer. Please co-operate.

Victor still doesn’t have any reaction, and interrupts them.

Victor: A sudden explosion occurred on the island. Don’t you guys want to know what was the reason?

There is a moment of silence on the other side.

Victor: It was the port where the explosion occurred. Am I correct?

Several team members look at each other meaningfully for a bit. Among them, one member finally turns around to walk outside the room.

Calmly and unhurriedly, Victor sits back in his seat, and also pulls me to his side in the process.

MC: What on earth is going on?

Borrowing the sound of the alarm in the room, I lower my voice, and ask him in a whisper.

Victor doesn’t answer me directly, only squeezes my hand.

[ T/N: He is wearing the handcuffs.... ಡ‸ಡ ]

Victor: You will find out in a moment. Remember, don’t make a fool of yourself.

Very soon, that same officer from before appears at the doorway.

NW Commanding Officer: How did you know about that?

Victor: Just the most basic judgement, that’s all. I suppose, by means of the strengths of NW, a good plan must have already been deployed as the response. But if you want to make it truly foolproof, I can offer a shortcut.

The commanding officer looks towards Victor with some suspicion. Victor opens his mouth as he unhurriedly explains the way.

Victor: The commanding officer has investigated on me so carefully, he must be aware of my Evol. There are many Evolvers within the Time and Space Administration, but only a few of them can traverse through timelines. I have the ability to know the future, and I can naturally help you in controlling the current situation.

NW Commanding Officer: In that case, CEO Victor, why don’t you tell me how is the situation at present?

Victor: In fact, before I came here, I have already seen the situation that is happening now. I learnt that there is an apparatus in your hand that is capable of gathering Evol energy. It originally belonged to the promoters of the Hunter Game.

Victor: But now it seems that, the original owner of this apparatus doesn’t intend to abandon it. And once the number on the apparatus has risen to its full capacity, you may not be able to bear the consequences which will be brought from it.

I furtively observe Victor’s expression, and a wide panorama suddenly opens up in my heart.

Although he indeed has the ability to know the future....

But what he is actually saying right now, is entirely on the basis of his speculations and judgements from the information he has.

Victor’s ability has never only been so simple like a powerful Evol.

I watch as he lifts up his head, and fixedly looks towards the person directly in front.

Even if he is sitting inside an interrogation room, his freedom is restricted by the handcuffs — he is still able to seize the initiative into his own hands.

And the choice he has given, it’s one that no one can refuse.

Victor: Officer, there isn’t much time left for you to consider. It’s time to make a decision.

—

✧ [CH 17- 10] ✧

The interrogation room sinks into a brief silence, the expression of the commanding officer becoming unpredictable.

NW Commanding Officer: Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Victor. We appreciate your kindness, but for now it’s better to shift to a safe place first.

In the face of the commanding officer’s blunt refusal, Victor on the contrary, glances at the digital clock on the side, and smiles as if having a card up his sleeves.

Victor: Before that, I suggest you to prioritize ensuring the safety of the buildings near the port.

The commanding officer’s expression changes, and he stands motionless in his original position.

Victor: Two minutes later, the building at the west side of the port will explode.

A deathly stillness hangs in the air as no one moves, as though here it’s rather one of a stalemated war against time.

Two minutes later, a loud bang can be heard along with a sense of swaying.

I suppress the astonishment in my heart. The commanding officer narrows his eyes, and starts speaking after a while.

NW Commanding Officer: I believe in CEO Victor’s ability, but this is also merely a one kind of passive remedy. If you want to take back the initiative again on the basis of this alone— I’m afraid that it’d be quite difficult. To figure out the other parties’ whereabouts and the deployments in advance, we can interrogate the prisoners who have been re-captured after the prison-break.

I listen to his words, and frown slightly.

As it turns out, the prisoners also escaped along with the explosion just now?

My brain is running at a high-speed. Clearly, the NW commanding officer has already believed in Victor’s ability, and said that originally some information will not be told to us.

Although the situation is slowly leaning towards us, but the decisive bargaining chips are still lapsing.

We need a way to be able to find Joker faster.

Akin to igniting a flint, I suddenly think of something, and subconsciously take a step forward.

MC: Officer, I have a suggestion regarding what you have just said. I could directly read the memory of the prisoners, and find out the whereabouts and the purpose of the attacker much faster.

MC: Afterwards with a basic understanding, CEO Victor could then travel through time and discern his actions in advance. In this way, it’s almost foolproof—

Victor: No need.

Victor’s slightly amplified angry voice quickly interrupts me.

His eyebrows crease tightly while he doesn’t even look at me.

Victor: There are many more ways to confirm the attackers actions. There is no need to let her deal with this matter.

MC: CEO Victor, the most important thing right now is to be able to reach an effective co-operation, don’t you think so?

I turn my head towards him and blink, hoping he can understand my intention.

I know his fears. But since I am by his side, I will not allow him to face the danger all by himself.

I also believe that our tacit understanding can certainly reverse the current situation.

Victor remains silent for a long time, and ultimately closes his eyelids slightly helplessly.

Victor: [almost talking to himself] Just this once.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze has already returned to the sharp one, looking towards the NW commanding officer.

Victor: What do you think, officer?

NW Commanding Officer: The plan she has put forward is indeed very efficient. If this is the case, we are willing to give CEO Victor’s proposal a try. However, CEO Victor must have corresponding conditions too, am I correct?

Victor: Three conditions. Any one of them is missing ー this deal is off the table.

NW Commanding Officer: Isn’t this a bit too much?

Victor: You can try to find other partner to co-operate with. But at the moment, you’re in more of a rush than I am.

The commanding officer remains silent, and sits down opposite of Victor.

Seeing Victor regaining the control of the situation, and the ever high and mighty commanding officer looking somewhat defeated, I breath easy in my heart.

Soon afterwards, I also hold my breath, and listen carefully to his conditions.

Victor: Number one, guarantee that MC will not be harmed in any way.

Victor: Number two, unlock my handcuffs and turn off the surveillance in the room. Otherwise, I cannot use my Evol.

Victor: Number three, after the matter is concluded, make sure that we leave safely.

The other person contemplates for a while. Then he whispers a few words to confirm with a team member at his side, and extends his hand towards Victor.

NW Commanding Officer: To a pleasant co-operation, CEO Victor.

Victor doesn’t get up, only flips his wrists slightly to reveal the key-holes in the handcuffs.

The commanding officer beckons, and a NW team member at the side steps forward to unlock Victor’s handcuffs.

Seeing this scene, my heart also seems to be a bit light.

When I am just about to walk over and examine Victor’s condition, someone even quicker than me snaps another hand-cuff onto Victor’s wrists.

MC: You?!

[ T/N: This is the first time MC snaps in this chapter. ಡ‸ಡ ]

NW Commanding Officer: The surveillance in the room has already been cut off, and we have also retrieved the handcuffs restraining Evol. Now these handcuffs will not affect the using of Evol. I also request for CEO Victor to comprehend.

The commanding officer threads his way through a loophole, and speaks in an ill tone, but Victor doesn’t seem to care at all.

Victor: Triviality. But before taking her away, let me have a few words with her alone.

NW Commanding Officer: I believe, CEO Victor will not waste too much time.

Along with the dropping of the sound of the door being locked, Victor frowns once again as he looks at me.

[ T/N: His voice turns into the “only and only” soft™ for MC level soft™ for the rest of the part. ]

Victor: Do you know what you are going to face?

MC: A scientific research organization with a mysterious background - NW, and a villainous Boss who has made a mess of the world, and turned everything on its head?

Victor: It seems that you indeed are quite clear about it. Notー

MC: Not too stupid.

I laugh as I take his words.

MC: Victor, are you nervous?

Even though he has been handcuffed here spanning longer than ten days, in the face of the interrogation under high-pressure, he still remained calm, made calm judgements, and took back the initiative.

But now, he is actually hesitating, and is even deeply worried.

Victor: There must be many uncomfortable things in the memories of that group of prisoners. In extreme terms, there are even memories of hurting others, perhaps of painful times when being experimented on.

MC: This is exactly what I’d like to see.

I straighten up my waist, and look firmly at Victor.

MC: We almost know nothing about NW. This is the best opportunity for us to find out their state of affairs. I am not afraid.

Victor: Really not afraid?

MC: ....Okay, still a bit afraid.

MC: But this is the best option I can think of to help you, and at the same time, seize more initiative.

Regarding those dreadful memories, I’d actually fear them too. But to become the person who stands side by side with him, I simply cannot fear it.

Victor looks at me, and tucks my falling hair behind my ear.

[ T/N: He is wearing the handcuffs.... ಡ‸ಡ ]

Victor: This is something you’ve decided on. Since you have already made the decision, I trust that you can get it done. You have the courage and insight, and also the capability.

Victor: But my worries have nothing to do with them. Pay attention to your safety and don’t mess around.

I look at Victor, and smile softly.

MC: Victor, the same goes for you too.

READ PART 2: HERE!

ー

#WAILS with no intention of stopping T-T #PG writers pls let me protect this tender human being with the biggest dummy energy ever ಡ‸ಡ #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mr love victor #mldd victor #li zeyan #mlqc s2 #mlqc season 2 #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #李泽言 #恋与制作人 #love and producer #mlqc translations

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hrina · 4 years

Text

In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes!

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

if you enjoyed this series, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #oh my god i can't believe this is the last part aaaaaaaaaa #i really hope u all like it!#boxrry #harry writing

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Note

First, this is my THIRD TIME I send you my question. If you don't response I move.

Second, why still jikook shippers exist when jimin & jungkook was barely communicate. The fact, we can't ignore that, jimin & Jungkook avoid each other. Something between them was not good. I really miss their genuine interaction. Other hand Jk seems normal with other members. WHY?

👀 Ok but I'm really doing my best here 😒

There's literally 400 plus unanswered Asks in my inbox. If I answered one Ask each day it will still take like a whole year to clear my inbox and there will still be some unanswered Asks sitting in there.

Besides, I think I have answered this exact question? I have said I believe Jikook experienced a hiccup in their relationship between October and November last year post JM's birthday but I don't believe they broke up. Not sure how many times you want me to repeat that.

Most of the content with 'no interaction' and 'tension' between them were filmed around the same period within this timeline.

I will uploading a blog on that timeline soon. I have a rough draft of it sitting in my drafts somewhere. I've been answering a lot of Asks lately and I just haven't had time to write an actual blog post. Sigh.

Why Jikook Shippers still exist...

I ask myself this question every single day darling- why do people still ship Jikook when Jikook is more than a ship? They should be supporting them not just shipping them.

Also, I don't think real Jikook supporters support Jikook just because they interact. Those are the shippers. The trad shippers as I like to call them. I support Jikook because they are queer first and foremost and secondly because they are in love with eachother.

Just because they 'don't interact' in a moment, on camera, don't make them all of a sudden straight. It doesn't work like that.

Jimin is my bias and I know beyond a shadow of doubt he is queer. I love him more for it. I really love him more for it. You have no idea. I am not going to withdraw my support for him as an LGBTQ plus member in a conservative space just because he isn't interacting on camera with another member. That's just silly.

The love between them isn't going anywhere anytime soon. As long as they both want it and they both go out of their way to nurture it, it will always be there. I think that's what you should be paying attention to- whether or not they are nurturing their bond outside their interactions on camera during this period.

Because if they are not, then that's when they will become a real fanservice ship. No shade to a certain ship💀

JIMIN AND JK AVOID EACHOTHER. WHY?

Well damn I got nothing. Lol. My crystal ball is on the fritz. Would have to call Dumbledore for assistance. Help, Dumbledore! Lol.

Jokes aside, I see what you mean. But I keep saying Jikook are not broken up. It hasn't been smooth sailing all 7 years you know- ok take a few years. I don't think it will be either going forward either.

Jikook are not jikooking all the time. It's part of the contract they have with us. Lol. Sometimes it's because they are having relationships problems, other times it's their environment, a producer they ain't vibing with, bad hair day, the members getting on their nerves- a myriad of reasons Anon. A ton. I can only speculate. Could be anything from a break up to a lost change. Know what I mean?

They do have issues from time to time. They are human too. Sometimes they hide it behind smiles and perform knock off versions of their bond for us.

Other times they choose not to perform their bond, especially if whatever they are dealing with is serious- if it is, they set boundaries and respect eachother's boundaries to allow them to emotionally process and deal.

Most times too they push and poke at eachother's boundaries till the other cave. Especially if one of them feel whatever is getting in their way is a trivial issue.

During Jin's birthday VLive in December, they sounded a lot like they were enjoying eachother's company to me- apart from the part JM was throwing shade at us left right left, I didn't sense any tension between them then.

Chilee JM, whatever did we do to you?🤧

All we did was call you 'a liar' once and now you just keep rubbing your relationship in our face?😥 You really didn't have to tell us you were with Jungkook when Jin put you on speaker.😒 You really didn't. You knew he was putting you on speaker. Acting like Jin was bothering you or something. I see you. Smirk.

Their moments at GDA and the end of year award shows were equally telling of the state of their relationship.

In some content post Grammy you could see them hanging in the background playing games and what not.

Arriving together at KBS in the same car at 5am, leaving set together at 1am and heading lord knows where- cough, Itaewon.

Then this happened... was JK high? Chilee.

Like I know my bias is sexy and fine but JK you don't have to be scanning him like that😭

I've been saying, Jikook 'relax' in certain contents, act serious in others- as they should. They literally had the GMA performance before this shoot and people were screaming there was tension between them and what not and that JK seemed mad at Jimin. Mad bunny where?! Lmho.

The 'less open' one in that performance was JM not JK. To me. I felt he was putting up a tough exterior, acting like he don't kiss ass in that time period. Not sure if it was the haircut or his inner shadow hunter but something had shifted in him. Lol.

You could tell JK really wanted to show off their bond and chemistry in that event, and had perhaps wanted JM to engage like he'd done with him in previous performances?

But JM wasn't doing none of that for whatever reason- No, I don't think it was because he was mad at JK.

He just wasn't on his Jikook agenda.

They enjoy eachother and when they get lost in a moment it's usually for them not us. But they know and are well aware we like their bond and we love to see it. You'd often hear them, JM especially, ask the fans if they like certain moments especially after he's interacted with JK in a certain way or shared certain intimate details about their relationship with fans at fansigns.

They troll us, they tease us, they include us in certain moments- Jk deliberatly stealing JM's tear stained tissue( a reenactment of a popular Korean sitcom where a creepy ass lady stole her crushes used tissue to convey she adored him) him pointing at JM to indicate he desires JM, slowly taking off his shirt while holding JM's gaze, the you are me, I am you, what's tasty in Busan and all these other moments.

They each have their own Jikook agenda. But they are both not always in on it. Sometimes JM has no idea what JK is up to, other times it's JK who's clueless. Like the Holiday remix video where JK bolted after that intense fanservice moment with JM.

I don't think he knew JM was going to do what he did. It was shock and desire rolled into one for him. I just know it. Lmho.

As I said, the director probably had whispered something in JM's ear and had asked him to give them a moment.

JK was probably having wedding dreams flashbacks. His entire Itaewon gay future flashed before his eyes. I'm dead. Lmho.

Jk'd initiate in moments where JM wasn't initiating (during performances) and he'd bump shoulders or just shamelessly wrap his hands around Jimin and have a moment.

Same energy from JK different periods in the timeline- one before Grammy, one after.

May be you should be paying close attention to the things they do when they 'don't interact?' What they do when they do interact. Who initiates, whether the other reciprocates or not etc? The setting and environment equally counts as well.

Literally these two contents were filmed on the same day but half the fandom was screaming there was something off with Jikook in one just because Jikook didn't touch eachother.

JK was hesitating to initiate skinship with JM in one content, but didn't in the other- on the same day. What gives??

Contents filmed with Suga, Tae in dark hair, JM with an undercut were all filmed after 11th October and before 3rd November when Suga had his Surgery.

Content with JM in blue hair were filmed after 24th November.

JK's mood was pretty consistent to me till the pop up in late October, the holiday remix filmed after 3rd November but before Grammy, the Grammy reaction on 24th November and the recent run which was also filmed after Grammy where he seemed mostly closed off to JM's Jikook agenda- do you see what I mean when I say all those moments on 'tension' you and others mention were filmed within the same period?

Jimin's reaction has equally been consistent, going from putting up a tough exterior to being mellow and somewhat humbled or subdued.

Make of it what you will.

Not sure what you mean by genuine interactions. I think you have to embrace all aspects of them and their relationship. They have 'genuine' moments, they have fan service moments, they have good days, they have bad days. Sometimes they don't interact at all.

It's ok to miss them. But don't demand that they change or interact in a certain way to suit your shipping desires. That's dangerous.

They are human.

Signed,

GOLDY

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golbrocklovely · 3 years

Note

You're very stubborn too, i noticed. You have your opinions and no matter what people tell you they're not going to change your mind. Your replies often seem very dry and cut because you want to be nice but at the same time no matter what people say you see things the way you see things and will not be persuaded otherwise. You answer asks because you dont want a bunch of unanswered asks in your inbox but in reality you dont care about a lot of the stuff that gets sent in because you already have your mind set.

This is not an attack just an observation.

i mean... you're not wrong lol

i know i'm stubborn and i have my beliefs set on certain things and people. but i don't see that as a problem because i believe everyone can be stubborn about something.

we all have our set opinions about things. we all have "unpopular opinions" too.

for example, guacamole is gross. salsa is superior. you cannot tell me otherwise.

but to get back onto what you were saying...

i have my ask box open and on anon because i want ppl to come on here and vent their frustrations about whatever fanbase they are in. that's why i get asks about fanbases i've either never heard of or don't have opinions on.

i know what it's like to go against the grain when it comes to fandom opinions and thus feel like you can't say what you want to because you know you're gonna get hate. no one deserves that. even ppl who i fully disagree with that come on here and send in an ask, i'm never gonna be mean to them. i will be cut and dry, but i won't be rude.

that being said, there are certain situations that happen that i just, full-heartedly and transparently, don't have opinions on. it could be because i don't know the situation that well and are only going off of what the person sent in, or it could be that i don't know the influencer that well, and thus can't tell if this is a pattern to watch out for or just a one-off time they weren't at their best.

because that's how i feel for most influencers; not all, but most. we get a miniscule look into any influencers' lives on the semi-regular. there are gonna be times when they don't act at their best. there are gonna be times when they fuck up and do something wrong. does that give us the right to full on hate them now because of one fuck up? it depends on whether or not that fuck up was terrible and unforgivable, or just a random everyday-type of fuck up.

you wouldn't want ppl to hate you for one screw up, right?

let me use the example of tara and the previous asks i've been getting about what she did on jc's stream, since this has been the only time i've ever fully said 'i don't care about this situation'. now, i have a generally positive outlook towards tara. i like her content. i don't watch it that regularly to call myself a fan, but i do like it. i also like her relationship with jake, and i think overall i like her and her personality. that being said, from what i've been told about what she did on jc's stream, do i like what she did? no. cursing out his chat and maybe being overdramatic wasn't the best thing for her to do. if i was in her shoes, i wouldn't have played the game in the first place, but that doesn't matter. she knew what the game was and then didn't want to play it, but wanted the benefits. i get how that could upset someone.

do i now have a negative opinion about her because, to put it bluntly, she was a sore loser and stubborn? no. i still like her. what she did was forgivable. it's a one off time of her not being nice. i'm not gonna hate her now because of it. i also don't see these things as negative because i am these things as well lol

not to mention, i haven't even seen the stream. so yall could be full on lying to me (i don't think you are, but it's always a possibility). and because i know how good of a person she is, or at least i believe her to be, i'm not gonna change my opinion of her. if she acted like this all the time, then i would consider not being so positive towards her. but, that's not the case.

and also, because i'm not a huge fan of her, i don't care how she acted. i care that you guys are upset at what she did. i feel for you. that doesn't now mean i have to hate her. what she did didn't negatively effect me, and thus i don't have a full emotional opinion about it.

but if you do, you're allowed to feel that way. even if you didn't see the stream, don't know who she is, whatever the circumstance, you're allowed to be upset at her and now dislike her. i'm not saying you can't. i'm just saying because i don't care about the situation that much, i'm not gonna change my opinion about her.

i wanna make this clear that i don't really hate anyone that snc associates with, besides elton and brennen. those are the only two i dislike. but everyone else, i have positive feelings towards. that being said, i'm not a fan of them. i don't mean that negatively, i just mean i don't watch their content, don't follow, and don't really know anything about them. when you guys send in asks about these ppl that are negative/them doing something to upset you, i feel for you. i'm upset that you're upset. that's why i usually tell ppl that if an influencer is pissing you off at every turn, cut the tie. stop following them.

but unless the person did something morally corrupt or just super wrong imo, i'm not gonna hate them or change my feelings towards them.

have you ever looked at a gossip magazine cover and read the headlines and didn't have reaction towards any of them? that's how i feel for a lot of things influencers do.

if that makes me stubborn, so be it.

#ask #personal

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the-space-lady · 3 years

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I think it is time to say Goodbye.

Hello! Mod here, Tataia. I’ve come to make an announcement about the-space-lady and edgy-frenchman.

From this day on, I will not be updating these blogs anymore. I will be closing the inbox and delete all unanswered asks.

Don’t worry! They will still be up, you can come back to look through everything as many times as you’d like, but don’t expect any new posts in either blogs.

Now, we all know already that these blogs have been on an never ending hiatus, and it showed no signs of updating regularly like back in the day. So, let’s have a little (okay, kind of long) chat, about how this blog came to life, and how I am happy and thankful with everything that came from it.

Feel free to not read this at all, because it is kind of a long read.

If you have any questions, please send an ask to my main blog, @tataiafurquim, and follow my twitter where I’m the most active, also going by the same username.

Three years ago, 2017, for the first time in the Brawlhalla history, there was a new legend leak! It was a picture taken with a phone of a monitor screen which showed the character selection screen in Brawlhalla, of the next legend in the default pose (the one that every legend has before getting their signature poses once they’re released); that was the first time everyone saw Artemis. BMG didn’t even announce her on dev streams by that point. The picture was shared in the r/Brawlhalla discord server, and, Calamari-Pop herself had tagged me to see it in one of the text channels, saying, ‘look! female Orion!’. Since I started playing the game, I’ve always been an Orion main, and once I saw Artemis for the first time, I felt like it was love at first sight.

I was instantly hyped for the character, while most people were complaining that ‘BMG had run out of ideas for new legends’, I couldn’t wait for her release, she was so beautiful, I never felt so hyped for something like I did for Artemis. I was probably the first person to make fanart for her and post it on r/Brawlhalla. People’s opinions on Artemis were very 50/50. People didn’t like her because ‘it’s just female Orion’, others genuinely liked her, and were excited to play with the next scythe legend.

I didn’t have many friends at the time who were into Brawlhalla, so for me the hype was kept mainly to myself, and of course, through my art. The picture we had of Artemis was very poor quality, so a lot of early art was missing a lot of details, but I didn’t care; I just kept drawing the only thing that was bringing me happiness.

I was a 14 year old when all of this happened, school was being very rough on me, back in the day I used to struggle so much to study, it was a pain to focus and learn, I’d always give up and go back to video games and art. My grades were horrible, I felt like my personal friendships were kind of faling apart, and so with my family. The only light at the end of the tunnel I had at the time, was the idea of making an ask blog for Artemis.

At first, I was skeptical. What if it flops? The Brawlhalla community wasn’t very active in other social medias, it was small, but everyone was close and if something big was announced, the word would spread fast. I mean, it was worth a short. Worse comes to worse, I delete the blog and move on. Ask blogs weren’t as popular as they were either.

I had claimed the URL even before Artemis was announced in a dev stream, so the blog was ready to go. I remember waiting a little more than a month when the patch of her release was finally online, and I did my move of announcing the blog in every social media I could, and so I waited for the community to show up.

And they didn’t stop coming! It was ask after ask, I was so happy, this little blog was my escape from the real world. Answering people as Artemis was honestly the most fun I was having during that year. And I could also draw her as much as I’d like! The blog was growing, and so was my audience of people who was genuinely following me for my regular art. Even when I was grounded because I did bad on a test, I still answered people with drawings made on paper.

Needless to say, this blog was definitely, a start for me in the Brawlhalla community. “Are you the person who draws a lot of Artemis?” “Yep! That’s me!” It was great, I felt like I was finally becoming someone somewhat important in a community like I always wished to, drawing what I loved, and people loved it. I even met my soon-to-be boyfriend through it!

But of course, that didn’t stop what was happening outside of the computer screen. Things were going even more downhill the more I focused on the internet and forgot about real life. It was helpless; there was no way I was passing that school year, I’d have to repeat it. My parents had decided that maybe one of the issues was that, my old school, was one of those schools that go really hard on the students, and that was not my place. So, the next year, 2018, I changed schools for the first time.

I’ve always had really bad anxiety. On the first day in the new school, you know what I did? I drew Artemis. What a surprise to nobody, but for me, this was my moment of realization, that this space lady from a fighting game, was my comfort character. This possibly canonically evil woman who wants to kill my main because of some fucked up shit he did in the past, was my comfort character. I was depressed? I drew Artemis. I was happy? I drew Artemis. I was extremely pissed off?? You guessed it! I drew Artemis! It is likely that a lot of pieces I made of her that I’ve posted online, were created from strong emotions I had while I drew it. There’s a lot that I didn’t even post either.

In 2018 I was still updating the blog, but I was also focusing a lot more on school. I was managing to get good grades, I made new friends, had new experiences, and my relationship with my family was getting better. Of course every year has its ups and downs, but overall, the important part, was finally being taken care of; I passed the school year, and then I passed again, and I passed again! I have just one more year to go, and hopefully, in 2021 I’ll be done.

Setting that aside, as the blog grew, my audience online did so too. My art improved, I’ve become, for the lack of a better word, an important member in the community. A lot of people have seen my art, and some of them probably don’t even follow me!

Today, I am a Brawlhalla Partner, I have a wonderful boyfriend, incredible friends, an amazing relationship with my family, and I am now hoping for a bright future of work ahead of me, and it was all thanks to this ask blog of a fictional character who I deeply loved. I would have never made it where I am today without Artemis, without Brawlhalla, without all of you. I could ever be thankful, and all I can give you all is more fanart of this amazing game that has completely changed my life, and with how Brawlhalla has been growing? Keep an eye on this one, it’s gonna get big.

Thank you so much everyone who has supported me over the years, and followed me more than just Artemis content. The updates on the blog have stopped because I’ve been focusing on other things. trying out new stuff and focusing on myself to become a better person and artist, creating my own stories with original characters, which I’m excited to share with all of you.

Anyway, take care, whoever read this far <3 Hopefully 2021 will be a better year for everyone.

#mod speaks

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 5 years

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Supercorp SAO AU, Pt 3

Kara hasn't ever met Lena's husband. Honestly, she isn't entirely sure Lena has either. He's never home, Lena's apartment very much her own from the art to the books to the furniture. If not for the occasional tabloid photo, the wedding portrait on Lena's mantel, and the rings on her left hand, Kara might have assumed the husband to be a specter to dissuade would-be suitors. Even so, she can't help but notice the way Lena's smile dims when she sees his number on her phone during movie night. "It's nothing," Lena says, when Kara works up enough nerve to mention it. "He likes to pick fights. I used to enjoy the debates we'd have, but lately... I don't know. It doesn't feel like debate anymore. And at the end of the day I don't have the energy for it." Over the weeks and months, Kara learns about him in bits and pieces. That he was a friend of Lex's, and that they fell in love over the course of several summers. That he had his own tech company, who had just migrated to a new market on another continent, hence his absence. One time, Kara arrives to movie night to hear Lena almost shouting into her phone. Her tone is the kind Kara only heard once in all their time in Aincrad-- when she'd been on the verge of committing murder, against a player who had nearly poisoned Kara to death. Dark, menacing, and inhumanly cold.

"Come anywhere near my company again, and I will slap you with enough lawsuits to keep you and your pathetic excuse for a firm underwater for the next thirty years. Do you understand me?" She barely pauses long enough for her victim to open their mouth before interrupting, her voice pitching even lower. "I said-- do. you. understand. I want to hear you say it."

Lena hasn't registered Kara's arrival yet, and so Kara shifts awkwardly as she waits, trying not to watch as Lena's lips twist into a cruel smirk. "Good boy." She ends the call shortly thereafter, and starts in surprise when she turns to find Kara standing in her foyer. "Kara! Gosh, you startled me!" She sounds like herself again, but Kara eyes her warily. "Is tonight a bad time? I can come back--" "Don't be ridiculous!" Lena beams, rolling her eyes. "Marital squabbles might be a bitch, but it'll take a lot more than that to keep us from movie night. What's on for tonight? Die Hard?" Before long, Kara is curled up against Lena's side on the couch, sharing a blanket as Bruce Willis yippee-ki-yays across the screen. The call lingers at the back of her mind, and she decides right then and there that if Lena's husband is someone who brings out that side of her.... he doesn't know Lena at all. Perhaps Kara's favorite part of their friendship is their party. It happens by accident-- Kara stumbles across her during a trial period of a new VR. She's an elf this time, and her username is Kieran, but her avatar still looks mostly like herself. "I didn't know you played," Kara says, scuffed her dwarven boot against the ground. She's a little hurt that Lena hasn't ever mentioned it. "I should have told you," Lena admits. "I'm sorry I didn't, but after what you told me about your time in SAO, I was worried if we connected in a game, I... I guess I worried I wouldn't measure up to her. It sounds really silly to say it out loud. I really cherish our friendship, Kara, and I was scared I might lose it if you spotted too many differences between us. Between me and her." Kara smiles, and throws her short, but strong arms around Lena and squeezes right. "Not possible." After that, they're inseperable in the VR world. They try new games together, and the nature of Lena's position grants Kara beta access to countless games still in development. They explore entire worlds together, and Kara finds that Lena needn't be worried at all. She is Lena. The Lena Kara loved in Aincrad didn't stray far from the template of her creator's personality and fighting style, and in VR Lena comes alive in a way she doesn't in the real world-- as though anything could top that. In VR Kara watches Lena lead raid parties with expert precision, sharp and intense but also warm and inviting. More than once Lena helps inexperienced players level up, and shares the secret spawn points for creatures that drop rare items. Kara misses Lena-in-Aincrad, misses what they shared together, but she loves this Lena, the whole of Lena, with her entire being. Eventually, they beta test ALO together, by virtue of the fact that Lena's husband headed the development team that produced the matrix for it. It's a world that rivals Aincrad in beauty and scale. Better yet, it allows magic use, and every race has the ability to fly. One day, they spend an afternoon simply flying through a rainstorm, dodging lightning bolts and collecting thunderbells to smith armor with. Somewhere between the rain on her skin and laughter that gets swallowed by thunder, Kara simply stops and watches as Lena loops into a tight corkscrew to snag an escaping ingot. Her grin is as bright as the lightning, and when their eyes meet Kara's chest tightens at the heated expectance that opens Lena's features into something intimately familiar. Before either of them can speak, the in-game alarm alerts them to the end of their scheduled session, Kara immediately wakes and rolls to her phone. I love you. She almost hits send, but the phone buzzes in her hand before her finger can tap the button. Not a bad way to spend the last day of beta, Lena texts, with pulsing dots following to warn of an incoming note. I think that might be my favorite quest so far. Catch you next rainstorm? Kara deletes her previous message. Launch Day is marked on my calendar. Can't wait. The pulsing dots appear and disappear several times before Lena's next message finally comes through. You're my favorite. Kara rolls over, clasping her phone to her pounding chest. As she drifts off to sleep, those three words sear themselves across the back of her eyelids. You're my favorite. --- "So when will you be back online?" Kara asks over the phone almost a month later. The ALO launch is coming up, and their standing date (it's not a date) looms in the back of Kara's mind. Across the line, Lena sighs. "I'm not sure." Lena's work has kept her busy since their night chasing lightning. They've barely spoken, let alone lunched or gamed. "Were still on for the ALO launch, though, right?" Silence answers her. In a rare moment of petulance, Kara pouts. "Lena, you promised." "Yeah," Lena breathes. "Yeah, you're right, I did. At this point it looks like I might be traveling that day, but I'll try to reschedule some things. I don't know how much time I can spare though." "That's okay!" Kara chirps, grabbing at the compromise with both hands. "I just want to see you. I miss you." "I miss you too, you have no idea." A rumble of voices on the other end cuts their time short. "Sorry, I have to go," Lena says. "But I'll do what I can, I promise." "Okay. See you then." From that night on, Kara counts down the days. When Launch Day dawns, Kara logs in immediately. She waits for hours, selecting an avatar that looks almost like herself. In fact it's a dead ringer except for the white feathered wings that fold up snugly against her back, and unfurl between the slats of her armor. As she waits for Lena to log in, she experiments with her new wings (during beta, she'd chosen fairy wings), and revels in the power of every stroke. She feels the most like she did in Aincrad, and it feels like coming home. But as she waits, the faces who greet her aren't Lena's. She passes on joining other survivors for a commemorative hunt, even as the sun dips below the horizon, and in her heart she knows Lena won't make it. Still she waits. Just in case. When she finally logs out, Kara texts Lena, but sends only a frowning emoji. Then she turns it off and goes to sleep, determined to let whatever apology Lena sends sit unopened until she wakes. But no response is waiting for her when she gets up the next morning, and none comes for the entire week that follows. That week spreads to two, and then three. Kara's disappointment shifts to irritation when she assumes Lena is trying to avoid her after missing the launch, but then snaps to concern when even her calls go unanswered until her voicemail is too full to record any more. Something is wrong. She calls Lena's office, her assistant, sends countless emails, but gets nothing except a cagey brush off from Lena's assistant. When Kara goes to L-Corp herself, she's rebuffed at the door. "Orders came down from the top, Miss Danvers. You're no longer permitted in the building." "What? That's ridiculous! Lena wouldn't--" "You'll have to take that up with her, ma'am." "I'm TRYING." But to no avail. Kara gets nowhere, and is left bewildered and hurt and afraid for Lena who she can't quite believe would cut her out so abruptly. Alex doesn't have any advice to give her, except to be patient and keep trying. So all Kara can do is log in to ALO every night, and watch her friend list, praying that Lena will log in. She never does. Then, one night, Kara receives an anonymous message in her inbox. She doesn't know how a player could send an anonymous message, as the privacy on her inbox is set to friends only. Nevertheless, she opens it. "Meet me tomorrow night at 1am." It includes a National City address. She doesn't need Alex to tell her it's a bad idea. But her gut tells her it's about Lena-- maybe even Lena herself-- and so she goes to the location at the designated time with her heart in her throat. It's not Lena. Rather, it's her assistant, Jess. "Come with me," Jess tells her. Kara obeys, and after a furtive drive through the city, Jess leads her into a nondescript building that has more locked doors than Fort Knox. Finally, Jess swipes her security pass over the final sensor, and pushes into a room filled with medical equipment. For a moment, Kara sees her own hospital room, when she woke up from her SAO coma, filled with the same equipment. She's had this dream before. But the figure lying prone in the sterile bed isn't herself. It's Lena. "Oh my god." "She logged in the morning of the ALO launch," Jess informs her, her voice quiet. "She cleared her schedule for it. But she never woke up, and when we reviewed the game data, it never showed her syncing up to the game." Lena's features are slack inside the visor of the NervGear. When Kara takes her hand, her skin is cool, and waxy, like it isn't even human. But it is. Kara recognizes the scar on Lena's wrist, from a soldering accident when she was twelve. "I don't believe them," Jess murmurs. Kara blinks. "What?" "The new Nerv models are designed with multiple redundancies after the SAO incident. If she didn't connect, Lena would have woken up instantly." "Is it possible it could have been tampered with?" Jess shrugs. "Maybe. But the logistics of doing so without Lena noticing just aren't feasible." Kara regards her solemnly. "It sounds like you have an alternate theory." "It would be easier to alter the game data than tamper with the gear. Someone involved with the game's development would have easy access and ample opportunity." Someone involved in the game's development? Like... "Her husband?" "He's already assumed her seat on the board as interim chair. And he's already proposing changes Lena vetoed earlier this year. There enough members who agreed with Lena's veto that they've resisted him so far, but it won't be long before he wears them down." Rage burns low in Kara's belly. Bastard. Gritting her teeth, she meets Jess' gaze. The woman's face is well past angry-- she's exhausted, and at the end of her rope. It's clear that Kara is her last hail mary. "I'm going to lose my job the moment they find out I brought you here," Jess warns. "After that, I won't have any access. But I can't help her from here anyway." "You think she's trapped in the game," Kara surmises. Jess nods. "My guess is there's a backdoor that lets them control a small area of the game. To avoid detection by the moderating algorithms, they've probably built it into the context of the game-- an uncharted area that only becomes available after completing a legendary quest." Or clearing the final floor boss, Kara thinks bitterly. Her hand tightens on Lena's limp fingers. This is SAO all over again, except this time... This time, Lena is alone. "I've been searching every second I spend at home, but haven't found anything," Jess continues. "But I'm certain the answer to waking Lena up is in the game itself. That's why I reached out to you." Kara's head lifts sharply, surprised by the admission. Jess returns her gaze solemnly, her features hard. "If anyone can beat a broken game from the inside, it's you."

previous / next

#supercorp #sao au #angst #the plot thickens #supercorp endgame #does this count as slowburn?

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definitelynotaminion · 5 years

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Progress Reports, Ides of March

I’ve actually got the Konan/Mei “first meeting” prompt all written up (and have for a while) it’s just a matter of actually typing the damn thing. It’s more preslash and gayness on Mei’s part than anything. Also, zombies.

I’m highly intrigued by the Hawks/Eraserhead prompt and I will be getting Right On That as soon as I get a minute and resurrect some of the ol’ wing kink from my fandom ‘childhood’ (y’all know the drill). I never wrote it but I’m confident I can have some fun times going, even if it’s short.

I’ve started the Todobaku arranged marriage fic (one shot! Nobody get their hopes up!) but so far it’s just Shouto exhausted on a couch. I do have a plot though.

Uhhhh I’ve got like 2.5k of the next “A Study in Survival” update done but I’m not sure if it Speaks To Me properly (y’all all know that fic rapidly expanded past my comfort zone in terms of awesomeness and I’m low-key terrified I can’t live up to the first chapter tbh)

I like the Karin/Ino pirate idea, but I’m like: pirates how? Historical pirates where they both pretend to be men but discover each other and pull a tit out and rule the seven seas? Fun mystical d&d pirates? One’s a pirate, one’s a siren (my fave take so far). SPACE pirates? Stealing space ships? Space? So tldr this idea is still rattling around in my brain some more.

Tobirama/Minato ask is there, and objectively good, but I don’t really have any inspiration for it right now. I did receive it, though! (Thanks so much to everyone who sent me prompts, I love you)

Fugaku/Minato ask is super cute as well and I will be sure to give it attention when the bunny bites. Y’all are so nice sending me prompts, I know I don’t get to them anything like often enough.

I’ve got the neji/anyone x happiness prompt and I hard Stan the concept so expect something, someday. I definitely will make it married sex neji/kiba in the early morning, I just need to write it. Your patience is lovely.

And theN, THEN if you scroll even further I have all these unanswered prompts that I have barely looked at in half a year:

Anonymous said: “Well, what can I say? I’m a badass.” for Mei Terumi x Anko. Pair it up with a accidental sex of your choosing if you want.

createpeacefromchaos said: For the prompt request: “You made an inaccurate assumption about *insert sexual or sexuality misnomer here* and I’m going to teach you the truth” sex - Temari/Tenten?

whyaminotasleepyet said: The "I started pretending to dirty talk to you an hour ago but it stopped being pretend " thingie with Anko/Touka ?

1stsana said: Hey look promptS! “I didn’t know you were a dom and when I called you Sir/Ma'am you almost jumped me” sex Temari/karin

uintuva said: “You found my sex toys and I teasingly offered to demonstrate them welp here we are” sex This brought to mind TentenSakura xD

ravenclaw-in-snakeskin-boots said: Ino/ Sakura “do you think i look good in this? Wait, is this turning you on?” Sex because they would

Anonymous said: “This started as a tickle fight and it isn’t tickling anymore” sex sounds like it could be Sakura/Ino

Anonymous said: Konan/Rin for “Freinds can totally watch porn together and nothing can happen…. no they can’t” sex

Anonymous said: Is time travel fair game? If so, how about “All I’m saying is that I’ve been told I’m a good lay, wanna find out?” sex for Kushina/Touka

Anonymous said: Fuu/Yugito for “You’re intentionally getting under my skin so I threaten to spank you/playfully spank you and now you look like you just got banged against a wall” sex if you feel up to it

Anonymous said: If you're still taking prompts, how about “You played a prank on me and now I’m going to play one on you except oops this accidentally got hot” sex for Kushina/Mikoto

Anonymous said: “All I’m saying is that I’ve been told I’m a good lay, wanna find out?” for Karui/Ameyuri please

Anonymous said: How do you feel about “I noticed the way you were watching me eat this popsicle so I purposely started making it an inuendo and now we’re both hot and bothered” for Anko/Shizune

Anonymous said: Let's be real, this prompt has Ino/Sakura written all over it “Anything you can do I can do better INCLUDING THAT”

Anonymous said: “I didn’t know you were a sub and when I called you a good boy/girl you almost cried” sex or the dom equivalent for Hinata/Temari. I think that would be a really hot pairing, and idk I think Hinata could make a really cute domme after she gets a bit of confidence

Anonymous said: If you're willing to do a Harry Potter prompt, Lily Evans/Narcissa Black “You said you don’t like BDSM but I bet the people you were with just don’t know how to do it, I, however, have experience and bet I could make you like it” with Dom Lily and Sub Narcissa

fallintolife said: sakura/ino. Ino: "Listen, bitch, don't make me put you over my knee." ; Sakura: *turns bright red* ; Ino: "And... you're... into that. Okay, we can work with this." or some such ;)

Anonymous said: How about some time travel!Sakura/Kushina for the prompt: “I’m fixing your *insert appliance/furniture/house thing hee* for you and now I’m sweaty and half naked and you’re drooling” Where Sakura is the one doing the fixing and Kushina is doing the drooling.

Anonymous said: Kushina/Mikoto where Kushina is trying to explain bondage and failing, and so she shows her just what she can do with her chakra chains, for this prompt: “You don’t know what *bondage* is and I’m really bad at explaining things and now we’re doing it oops”

ravenclaw-in-snakeskin-boots said: Mikoto and kushina “you played a prank on me and now i’m going to play one on you except oops this accidentally got hot”

Anonymous said: Mito/Touka for “You found my sex toys and I teasingly offered to demonstrate them welp here we are”

Anonymous said: "I lost a bet to you and the circumstances were supposed to be a joke but I took them seriously" This sounds like Tsunade/Mei to me

Anonymous said: How about Mito/Rin for the prompt “I started pretending to dirty talk to you an hour ago and it stopped being pretending 58 minutes ago” sex

However looking back at some of them I am incredibly intrigued and very grateful to have them on the back burner in case I ever need inspiration. For the record y’all are always welcome to SEND prompts because I appreciate the opportunity for little bursts of creativity, just be aware there’s no guarantee I’ll get to them any time soon.

Thanks so much! (This is just an update btw, a sneak peak into my inbox)

#Tim speak #askbox updates #my stuff

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dee-vine · 7 years

Text

Shutter Speed Ch. 7

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of anxiety and depression

It’s a short one, but it’s a very important chapter.

As always, give me your feedback, it is very important to me.

Lots of love, Dana xx

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | AO3

Jughead and Betty became closer than ever after the last photoshoot. With their best friends dating, they all hung out together, almost all the time. Betty and Jughead even began texting each other, and Betty forced him to get a snapchat so they could talk through there. Jughead began to consider her one of his closest friends, though there weren’t many to begin with.

Today is one of those lazy days where they all were hanging out at Betty and Veronica’s apartment. Betty had made a habit of cooking for them whenever they came over, but today they opted for Chinese takeout instead. Archie put on a movie on Netflix, much to Veronica’s distaste. No one is really watching it though– Betty engrossed in her phone, Jughead in his food, and Archie and Veronica in each other. Jughead gets a notification on his phone and sees a snapchat from Betty. He smirks, glancing back at her from his spot on the floor, leaning next to her legs. She smiles at him, nudging his shoulder with her knee, before going back to her phone. Jughead opens the snap, just a picture of the back of his head. He laughs and replies with a selfie, Betty in the background, still staring at her phone. Her fingers are typing rapidly, and if Jughead had to guess, he’d bet it’s that guy.

That had taken him by surprise. The “hot barista”, as Veronica had called him, had managed to get Betty’s attention that day they met. When Betty cancelled their plans to go to the museum one day, she merely said something came up. Jughead didn’t question it at the time, just told her it was okay and that they could reschedule. He spent the day alone in the apartment instead, eating leftover takeout and playing video games. He didn’t stop until Betty texted him later on, apologizing again for cancelling. She explained that something came up last minute and when Jughead pushed further, he instantly regretted it.

Dylan. The hot barista was named Dylan and he had taken Betty out on a date that made her cancel his plans. Jughead dropped his phone on the couch after reading her text, not bothering to answer. He swiftly got up and went to his room, laying in bed for hours thinking about what he missed out on.

In the morning he woke up to numerous texts from Betty, asking if he was okay and if he was mad at her. He wanted to reply and say no, but I am mad at myself because you are the most amazing person I have ever known, Betty Cooper, and I want to know you for the rest of my life but I can’t compete against another guy that deserves you more than I do, but he couldn’t. Instead, he replied with a simple, fell asleep, sorry. Because even though Jughead won’t admit his feelings, he will accept them, and he will forget them.

Except he doesn’t forget them, because when he sees Betty smile at her phone, his blood runs cold. He knows the reason behind that smile, and it’s not him. Apparently he isn’t the only one to notice either, because Veronica finally says something about it.

“What are you smiling at over there?” she asks, poking her with her toe. Archie’s attention breaks away from the movie, looking at Betty curiously.

“A meme. Dylan sends them all the time,” Betty says with a slight giggle.

“What?” Veronica asks, at the same time that Archie asks, “Who’s Dylan?” Jughead sees Veronica look at him, but he doesn’t say anything.

“The barista from that one cafe we went to,” Betty explains to him, setting her phone down.

“You mean–oh. Oh,” Archie looks surprised, glancing at Jughead briefly. “Are you guys, like, dating then?”

“It’s not serious. We went out a few times, we talk,” Betty shrugs, bringing her knees up to her chest. Veronica and Archie are both eyeing Jughead, and he can’t handle it. He stares at the tv, trying to school his face and not give anything away.

“You’ve seen him more than once?” Veronica asks, trying to comprehend this new information. Jughead wishes she would stop talking. He already knows all of this and doesn’t enjoy hearing it again.

“I’ll be right back,” Jughead mutters, trying to be as casual as possible as he goes to the bathroom. Once he’s in there, he locks the door and leans over the sink, looking in the mirror. He wants to hit something, and that rarely happens. He yanks his hat off of his head, throwing it onto the ground before once again analyzing his reflection. He looks tired from hardly sleeping this week, dealing with work, his internship, Betty– and his father.

Jughead almost forgot his deadbeat father was out of jail and wanting to get back into his life. He had called, telling him how sorry he was and how he wanted to make it up to Jughead, but Jughead just hung up. He cried for the first time in months, and that is how Archie found him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from Archie for long, so he reluctantly told him about the phone call. What he didn’t tell him, though, was the text messages he’d been getting, and the single letter. They all went unanswered, but every time Jughead saw one in his inbox, his heart hurt a little.

Deciding that he has spent too much time in the bathroom, he splashes some cold water on his face and puts his hat back on, adjusting it into the right spot as he walks out. Archie and Betty are exactly where he left them, silently watching the movie, but Veronica is nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Veronica?” he asks them. They both lift their heads to glance at him, but Archie is the one that answers first.

“In the kitchen getting some water, I think,” he says. Jughead nods and moves to sit down on the arm chair when Archie stands, stopping him. “I got work tomorrow, so we should head out. I almost forgot.”

Jughead doesn’t comment that– no, he does not have work tomorrow. He doesn’t comment that Archie only works in the afternoons at the gym near their apartment. He doesn’t comment because Jughead knows an out when he sees one. He simply nods as Archie walks to the kitchen, presumably to say bye to his girlfriend. He stands there awkwardly, glancing at the door when he sees Betty stand up and cross over to him. Straightening his posture, he looks at her just as she opens her arms to wrap around him. He hugs her back without hesitation, her face burying into his shoulder. They stand there for a few moments, Betty being the one to pull back and look at him. She smiles softly, letting go of him and stepping back. She looks like she’s about to say something, but Jughead turns away quickly, Archie exiting the kitchen. He waves to Betty and walks out, Jughead quickly following behind him. He doesn’t turn around to see the disappointed look on Betty’s face. Archie doesn’t say anything either as they walk down the stairs and out of the apartment. Jughead has never been more grateful for silence.

There’s an unsettling feeling in Betty’s stomach as Archie and Jughead close the door behind them. She can’t help but feel she missed something, something bad. Veronica is still in the kitchen, having stormed in there shortly after Jughead disappeared. Betty can’t help but feel that she made everyone mad at her, and that doesn’t sit well with her.

She drops back down to the couch just as Veronica walks back in, silently sitting next to her. She grabs the remote and turns the tv off, Betty watching her the whole time. They sit in silence for a while, Betty looking at her lap and Veronica looking at the black screen of the tv. She only says something when Betty finally works up the courage to, interrupting her.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Dylan?” she asks. Betty immediately shuts her mouth, not expecting that question. “I’m your best friend, Betty. Why wouldn’t you tell me about a new boy in your life?”

“Because you kept pushing the Jughead thing and I- I didn’t think you’d like it,” Betty tells her. Veronica’s face falls, opening her mouth before Betty quickly stops her. “I should’ve told you, I know. You are my best friend V, and I love you. It just really isn’t anything serious; he likes me and it’s nice.”

“Well, do you like him?” Veronica asks, and Betty doesn’t really know how to answer. She thinks Dylan is a really nice guy and he is great to talk to, but she doesn’t know if there’s anything more.

“It’s nice, you know? Having someone that likes me and wants to spend time with me,” Betty shrugs, looking down at her lap.

“Oh Betty, I like you and I always want to spend time with you,” Veronica tries to amend, softly putting her hand on Betty’s arm.

“I appreciate that, but it’s not the same. You wouldn’t understand,” Betty whispers, her voice breaking. She clenches her hand into fists and can feel her nails digging into her palms.

“Then help me understand, Betty. I want to be here for you,” Veronica says gently, lightly squeezing her arm. Betty looks up at her, seeing tears in her earnest eyes. She can trust Veronica, she knows that. She may be the only person she does trust.

“I’ve never been the girl that has a lot of friends, or any boyfriends. I’ve always been really lonely, and my mother has never helped it, of course.” Betty pauses, letting Veronica nod in understanding before continuing.

“You already know that I’m really shy, and I don’t do well in social situations. Because of that, I’ve never been really lucky when it comes to guys. I assumed I would grow up old and alone, so when Dylan showed interest… I don’t know, I just wanted to hold onto it?”

Veronica stares at Betty as she speaks. When she finishes, she looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she pulls Betty into a tight hug, Betty unclenching her fists to hug her back.

“You are the prettiest, kindest, most amazing girl that I know, Betty. You don’t deserve to feel this pain, and I am so sorry that you do. If I could take it away from you, I would,” Veronica tells her, squeezing her tight. Betty feels tears form in her eyes so she closes them, letting them fall down her cheeks.

“I know I shouldn’t hold onto Dylan if I don’t like him like that, but I can’t help it, V. And he really is sweet, so it’s not horrible,” Betty mutters, resting her forehead on Veronica’s shoulder.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, because I don’t know how you feel. But just know that if you want to be with him, I support you and will gladly welcome him into my home. And also, if you choose to just be friends with him and not lead him on, I will hug you and do everything in my power to make you happy,” Veronica tells her. The words are too sweet for Betty to handle, more tears coming out. “You are not alone, Elizabeth Cooper. You have me, you have Archie, and you have Jughead. We all love you in our own way, and trust me when I say we will do anything for you.”

Betty cries in Veronica’s arms for a good ten minutes before Veronica decides they should snuggle up on her bed and start a new show. They put on New Girl, and Veronica opens a bottle of wine since she claims that they “deserve it.”

Maybe I deserve much more, Betty thinks to herself as she cuddles up to Veronica’s side. Maybe I can have more, if I just let myself.

Please don’t hate me I love you and promise it will get better

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #bughead fic #bughead au #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #my work

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cinnamon-suncat · 7 years

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An Announcement and a Little Concern

Hello all! I’m sorry to put drama on your dashboards, but yesterday some information was brought to me and I need to be entirely clear and open about some things in order to protect myself, and hopefully to protect you guys too.

I have only one character in the game, Syrena Kalihd, and that will never change. I am not Selene Kalihd (also known as @jaybartram / @princess-zeldaluna / Zelda Luna), and I have no ties whatsoever to this person. They are a pathological liar who lies and manipulates to knowingly and purposefully take character appearances and names, and then attempts to paint themselves as an innocent and unwitting party to gain sympathy. After the recent occurrence of someone making a duplicate of a character named Empress Quistis and using the false blog to slander that person’s name by sending hateful messages, I am more than a little wary of people taking other people’s character names and faces, and I feel I need to make it 100% clear that they are someone who made a willful decision to copy me, and they are not in any way an alt or secondary character of mine.

I am not someone who feels that similarities in character appearance warrant upset; the ffxiv character creator is fairly limited, and coincidental similarities or even duplicates are to be expected. But an active attempt to copy my character’s appearance and name is something that I’m uncomfortable with, and I am made even more uncomfortable by the fact that when questioned, Zelda claimed she doesn’t know me/has never seen me/did not copy me, despite that all of this is clearly untrue.

I will be presenting evidence; not because I am upset at the copying, but because I am upset at the lying, double dealing, and manipulation this person has exhibited, and I need to prove that this is not a coincidental similarity.

Buckle in guys, this is gonna be a bit of a ride.

For the purposes of ease of reading, I will be referring to Zelda as a ‘she’ due to the character’s sex. All named parties save for Zelda herself have given their consent to be left uncensored.

In January this year, Zelda messaged me multiple times from her personal blog Jaybartram, begging me for my character Syrena’s sliders and appearance information. Two of the asks are still in my inbox, unanswered, so I can show you at least those two.

Two sidenotes: firstly, here is the first incidence of her lying; she claims to not play on Balmung. She also does demonstrate that she knows that running into a lookalike would be unpleasant, and in order to get my sliders, she attempts to reassure me that it won’t be a problem because she doesn’t play on Balmung.

Secondly, here is proof that Jaybartram and Zelda Luna are the same person.

I don’t give out my character sliders, but I’m more than happy to assist with minor things like sharing Syr’s skin tone. So that’s what I did. [Here] is the published ask. The links within the ask should also take you to other posts where I answered this person’s repeated requests.

Zelda Luna appeared shortly later on Balmung looking near identical to Syrena; I didn’t mind much. I don’t love it, but in the end I’m flattered if people are inspired and like my character enough to want to look similar. So I let it go from January, and was happy to leave it be until now; because she has now name changed to Selene Kalihd.

The appearance and the name together coupled with the knowledge that she’d begged for my sliders and the fact that she knew that “running into a lookalike” would be upsetting was too much for me to let slide, though again I wasn’t angry, just uncomfortable. I messaged her stating that I was disappointed in her and I asked her for an explanation of her behaviour. She responded by acting confused and claiming that she doesn’t know me.

I caught her in a lie, and she backtracked then accused me of harassing her.

I spoke in short to one of her two FC leaders to ask for information; they were very helpful and offered to investigate a little bit themselves, and suggested that I speak to the other FC leader, Alrik Dotharl, as well. I said I would the next day, as I had a prior engagement I had to get to.

This morning, I was contacted by Alrik. After the two leaders had spoken at length to Zelda and caught her in several lies (including her attempting to claim that Kalihd is her last name in real life), she eventually admitted to copying Syrena.

I stated to Alrik that while I was uncomfortable with the copying, what genuinely upset me was Zelda attempting to cover up her lies with other ones, and then backtracking and reacting with aggression when presented with irrefutable evidence.

She was then, I’m told, removed from the FC: not for copying, but for lying to her FC leaders and attempting to manipulate their perceptions of her.

And now? She’s made a pre-emptive ‘callout post’ about me (in which she does also admit to copying me), which you can find here:

https://princess-zeldaluna.tumblr.com/post/160610758518/cinnamon-suncat-aka-syrena-kalhid-deleting

However, as she will likely delete it, I’ve taken the liberty of screenshotting it for your viewing pleasure.

There is a lot I could say to refute this post, but I think it kind of speaks for itself.

Zelda has a long history of this behaviour -- there is a long, long list of people who have had their character identities stolen by her -- and every time she is caught she reacts either with proclamations of innocence and “I didn’t mean to/didn’t want to hurt anyone”, or with unwarranted, self-righteous aggression (or one and then the other), then vanishes, only to reappear with a new stolen character and the same lies and excuses shortly after.

Those of you who know me know that I am very careful about tumblr drama. I don’t like to participate in it, and I never start it. I have been a victim of lies and slander and identity smearing in a previous game at the hands of someone who had a personal grudge against me, and I know from personal experience how incredibly awful it can feel to have someone accuse you of things you did not do and attempt to run you out of the community. I was badly hurt by it.

This is not that. I hope the evidence I have provided can speak to the fact that this is not an instance of me being petty and possessive over a coincidental similarity, but an instance of me feeling uncomfortable with the systematic and purposeful duplication of my character, followed by unrepentant lying and frankly, rather shoddily constructed manipulation attempts on the part of my doppelganger.

My intention with this post is not to hurt Zelda Luna, but I do feel at this point that her behaviour is a problem and members of the community need to be aware of her actions in order to protect themselves from her; I am not angry at her, just very uncomfortable and very disappointed in her, as I’ve tried to help her multiple times in the past while she used other identities, and I handled everything with her privately for her protection. I’ll admit, I no longer have high hopes that she will do anything different following this; either she will cling to the character, or she will delete it and every trace of her blog, before resurfacing with a new name and face shortly. Because that’s what she does.

Still; I honestly hope that Zelda learns from this and manages to find her own happiness in the game, with her own face and her own name, rather than one stolen from someone else.

youtube

#please don't send Zelda any hate or rude messages #I don't want to cause problems #I just want to make sure you are all informed so you can protect yourselves #and so that there's no confusion as to whether 'Selene Kalihd' is me or not.

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siverwrites · 7 years

Text

Dangerous Games Parts I don’t know when exactly

Kind of WIPish still in that something might change depending on other things. STILL EXPLORING. But some Cabanela Lynne stuff. Two separate parts since I’m sure there’d be something in between.

Cabanela’s fingers drum on the file on his desk. He’d like to think she should know better; it’d be easier, but who is he to talk about easy routes (or knowing better for that matter)? If it weren’t for the larger dangers he’d even be happy to let her at it. She’s in the dark even more than he is, but luck comes from unexpected places and he knows she’s in regular contact with him. Not that that’s of any help. What are the odds of Jowd letting anything slip? Any takers? Didn’t think so.

There’s a knock and Lynne enters.

“You wanted to see me, Inspector?”

Cabanela slides the file toward her. “Lookin’ into old cases, baby?”

Her eyes widen for a second before she catches herself. “Research?”

“Want to try that agaaain?”

“Um…” Lynne clasps her hands and Cabanela knows he’s got her. “Just his case.” She raises her chin and her shoulders set. “I can’t believe it. I never could. Detective Jowd didn’t do it! There has to be something else!”

“I didn’t think your workload was light enough for opening solved cases.”

Lynne frowns from across the desk. He can’t fault her determination and certainly doesn’t want to, but not this time.

“Solved? There’s no way… You’re best friends! You can’t believe this any more than I-”

“We were,” Cabanela interrupts.

“What?”

“We were friends. I haven’t seen him in fiiive years.”

Lynne looks downcast. “I know you’re busy, but…”

“Yes, I am as are you. It’s a closed case, baby. Use that taaalent of yours on more timely matters.”

“But I… I thought you might even help…for him…”

“There’s nothin’ to help. Drop it. That’s an order.”

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Do you understand?”

“I thought… if anyone…” Her eyes dart down to the file.

He sees her expression change. Recognises the dawning look as one of his own. She’s thinking ahead, wondering what she can still do. He wishes he could let her get away with it.

“Off-limits,” he says firmly. “That you took it this far is bad enough. Don’t make me take your badge.”

Her eyes widen and her hand flies to her badge. She goes still except for her hand tightening around it almost pulling it. Cabanela’s respect for her goes up a notch. She’s actually considering it, wondering what she’d be able to accomplish outside the police’s rules.

Do it. Give me a reason. We’ll get it back for you later. Get out of here. Instead she goes stone faced and her hands drop to her side. She stands straight, at attention. Passive aggressive obedience down to a T. Well done.

“Yes Sir,” she says flatly.

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

She turns on her heel, but not before Cabanela catches the flash of anger and disappointment in her eyes. Sorry, baby. You’ll understand in time.

He drags the file toward him and flips it open. It’s more an act to give his hands something to do. He has the contents memorized. And will that threat deter her? Did it ever deter you? Ha. At least he can hope she’ll take greater care for secrecy.

His gaze falls on his phone. One more thing to take care of that she can’t hide.

Filling blanks, checking boxes, signing off. The question of when will he ever empty his inbox looks to remain unanswered. The knock on his door is a welcome disruption.

“Come on iiin.”

Lynne’s entrance isn’t a surprise nor is her anger. She plants her hands on his desk. “Why?”

Cabanela leans back in his seat, twirling his pen around his fingers.

“That’s a question with a looot of answers, baby. Be mooore specific?”

“I’m not even allowed to call him anymore?”

“I did tell you to drop it,” Cabanela replies calmly.

“But I only talked to him. That’s it!”

“You’re tellin’ me you never tried to get him to talk about what happened?” Likely multiple times locked box that he is.

“I…”

“He’s in prison for murder. We all have images to maintaaain. Think how that reflects on you. Most people think he did it.”

“Like you?” Lynne spat.

“I knooow what I know.”

“Images to maintain,” Lynne scoffs shaking her head. “That really is all that matters to you, isn’t it? Looking sooo perfect. And if old friends are left to rot, so be it?”

He gives an airy sort of shrug. “So be it.”

A mixture of surprise and disgust crosses Lynne’s face. She lifts her hands from her desk and shakes her head. “I can’t believe you. I thought…”

“Lynne,” Cabanela cuts her off and she scowls but her voice goes cold.

“Sir?”

“You’ve only just made Detective this year. You’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

“Is that a threat? Sir.”

“It’s a warning. You’ve got a bright career ahead of you.”

Her coolness drops and her hands slam on his desk again. “If it means being like you, maybe I don’t care!”

Cabanela inwardly sighs. If you’re gonna lose that temper of yours, fuel it toward something useful, baby and use your head. “Reaaally now? So you have other prospects already lined up?” he asks lightly.

“Wh-what?”

“You’re not the only one you’re lookin’ after. So, teeell me, what’ll you tell Kamila when you need to find a new job? Or if somethin’ worse happens and she has to find a third home?”

Lynne looks stricken. “I… I’m sure if I had to something would come up. What do you mean worse?”

“I told you. This is a dangerous game. Leave it. Focus on your job.”

She swallows and some of the anger fades to nervousness. “Is… is there something going on?”

“It’s about time you learned some caution. Runnin’ arooound like this is a waste of time and energy.” Distract, deter and he can see her annoyance flaring up again. Good. Keep her mad at him and not wondering about deeper meanings.

“Waste?” she demands.

“You have a job to do. I know for a fact you have a mouuund of paperwork waiting for you.” Delegated by himself. “I suggeeest getting on that.”

Lynne’s voice is sharp, biting. “Yes sir. Do I have permission to leave, sir?”

He waves a dismissive hand at the door. “Off you go.”

He watches her storm out before staring into his coffee. Not strong enough to wipe away the foul taste in his mouth.

#dangerous games #I should make that tag so I can find all my stuff if need be #otherwise leave this untagged for now I think #writing #lynne gonna love you cabs #ghost trick fic

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askaceattorney · 7 years

Text

(The following letter responses are from the Co-Mod.)

(Previous Letter)

Dear Infinity Sparks,

It’s been fixed, and you can feel free to tell either of us about any errors you spot. Whichever one of us sees it first can fix them.

That might become a possibility somewhere down the road (and I’d sure love for it to work out that way), but for now, we’re taking turns answering letters individually.

And as far as I know, the only real purpose for the tags is to clarify if a letter is meant for a moderator rather than a character, so it really doesn’t matter which one(s) you choose. You can just use the “to mod” tag for letters to all three of us, if you prefer.

Dear supercykes,

Yes, but only for sprites in the courtroom and in her waitress outfit. If others exist, we haven’t found them, so we’ll have to stick to the Mod’s gifs for when she’s speaking directly to the player.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Annoying Anon,

Technically, Phoenix already saw her in the outfit, so it’s not entirely private. Besides, who ever heard of privacy on the internet?

(Previous Letter)

Dear Roadhog360,

I put the translation in a tag for that letter -- that’s what it was, not a comment I was making. Sorry if that was confusing.

Dear C Ranked Gouken,

Thanks for your concern, but I’m not too worried. We have some good lawyers here if we ever need them.

Dear John,

I glanced through the inbox, but I didn’t run into any of your letters. It could be that the Mod removed them, that we just haven’t reached them yet, or that Tumblr botched them up (the latter being the most likely). You can try resending them if you still want them to be answered.

Also, while I’m at it, I apologize for Mod letters taking so long to be answered. We’ll try to answer them at least once a week if it’s possible, in keeping with the Mod’s methods.

Dear naitomeruu,

I haven’t read any Ace Attorney fanfics, so you’ll have to fill me in there. In any case, we’ll most likely keep our identities a secret for the time being, but I will say this much -- one of us is from the U.S. and the other is from Canada. How cool is that?

The Modthorne has gone by that nickname since I’ve known her (referring to her favorite Ace Attorney character), and I sort of came up with my nickname on the spot. Sorry if they weren’t what you expected, but that’s life.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Inferno,

Thanks! I can’t take all the credit for it, though. The submitter practically asked for Dhurke’s catchphrase in the way they wrote the letter. In fact, I don’t think I would’ve seen the joke there if I hadn’t recently read a similar letter while scrolling through the inbox. Thank goodness great minds think alike.

Dear FernandoLemon,

Heh heh! Thanks! I’m a big fan of double meanings, and I thought that was a pretty cool movie too. I’m super glad that our writing styles are working to make the characters “sound” the way they should, and I’m also glad they’re hard to tell apart. Here’s one thing you can know for sure – I won’t be answering my own letters. I mean, that would just be weird.

And yeah, we have our disagreements about some of the characters (Dahlia especially), but we’re both big fans of the series, which is all that matters to me.

As of right now, there are 17 letters in the queue (and I’m about to add some more), but the inbox has a total of 2,421 unanswered letters. It’s both daunting and exciting to see such a high number in the inbox.

Dear SC,

(Yay, I’m doing good!)

Thank you for the feedback. I actually hadn’t ranked the games before, so it was mostly off the top of my head. I graded each one mainly by how much it affected or impressed me. While they all contain meaningful stories and fun gameplay, there are only a few that really immersed me in the plot and made me feel like it was really happening. (Dual Destinies even made me drop my jaw at one point!) Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney and Apollo Justice were enjoyable, but they didn’t quite “grab” me in the same way. Not to mention, the first game contained a lot more foul language and innuendo, which just aren’t my thing.

The most underrated characters in my opinion would be Maggey Byrde, Adrian Andrews, Iris, Rhoda Teneiro, Lauren Paups, and Apollo Justice. Sure, they’re not always the best people, but you can’t fault them for not caring, can you?

And I’m going to guess you were joking about Iris, but in case you weren’t, I was referring to her sister. Iris is awesome.

-The Co-Mod

#Infinity Sparks #supercykes #Anon #Roadhog360 #C Ranked Gouken #john and so on #naitomeruu #Inferno #FernandoLemon #Southern Corn #Mod Post #Co Mod

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mycelsiaflorist-blog · 4 years

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Small Business Saturday: Meet the Floret Team

A few of my favorite thingsI’m asked all the time, “Erin, how do you do it all?” And the answer is: I don’t. There is no way I could do it all myself. But, boy, did I sure try for many years…and I came close to quitting more times than I’d like to admit.

As I shared in a Design Sponge essay earlier this year, I used to think I should do it all, and that letting others help was a sign of weakness. I wasn’t that I didn’t want to relinquish control, it was actually that I was afraid for anyone to see what a mess my life really was. And while my inbox overflowed with hundreds of unanswered emails, my office was a total disaster and my work-life balance was insanely out of whack, I continued to try and do it all myself for far too long.

It was only after I took a huge leap of faith and hired Jill part time to tackle some of the things that were falling through the cracks, that Floret really started to soar. Since then, I’ve worked really hard to open myself up and let others bring their magical gifts into my life. Over the past few years we’ve built a fantastic team of folks who work both on and off the farm to support our little flower business. In honor of Small Business Saturday, I wanted to take this opportunity to introduce you to the amazing folks that I’m proud to call teammates, friends and part of the Floret family. I can’t imagine how I ever did life without them!

I asked each of them to share a little bit about themselves and their role here at Floret. If you’re a small business owner and you’re still going it alone, I hope this post will inspire you to at least consider getting some much needed help. I can’t even begin to describe how dramatically my life has changed (for the better) with the addition of each of these incredible souls. It can be hard to feel like you deserve to be supported, but the truth is, you really do.

Since I try never to ask the team to do things I haven’t done, I’ll start us off:

Erin Benzakein

Role at Floret: I handle the majority of our marketing and social media. I also do a ton of writing and product creation and work with our amazing team to bring all of our big ideas to life. I also lead workshops, plan out the fields and greenhouses, harvest, and fill in wherever I’m needed when we’re short staffed.

Best part of the job: I have a few favorites! I love trialling all of the varieties for our seed company, especially sweet peas. I absolutely love growing every variety in a specific flower group and then observing each one individually, comparing them to one another and recording their special traits.

I love writing and creating new things with Jill. Whenever we have a big project that we’re diving into, we huddle around my dining room table, get out the whiteboard, the Post It notes and plan until our brains hurt. Once there’s a road map in place, we start writing. She sets the outline, then I fill in the blanks, and then we lob it back and forth (sometimes 15 times!) until we get it just right. I’m sure it sounds crazy, but it’s such a thrilling process because with each pass the idea becomes clearer and more real.

Lastly, I love capturing the magic of the flowers. After everyone has gone home for the day, I usually head to the field and harvest whatever is at its best. Then I haul out all of my funky old backdrops and make a big ole mess in the yard. When magic hour hits (the hour before sunset) Chris and I run for the field and frantically try and capture the magic before the light fades. It’s kind of stressful and crazy, but when we get “the shot” it’s completely exhilarating.

Favorite flower memory: Growing up I spent part of every summer in the country with my great grandparents. During the long hot days my Grammie would tell me tales of her flower garden back on their farm in Nevada. She’d always send me outside with scissors to pick a bouquet for her bedside table. While it was nothing like her old garden, there were always a few treasures to be had if you dug around long enough. Leggy snapdragons, a few hybrid tea roses and always a rainbow of sweet peas scrambling up posts by her backdoor. If I close my eyes I can still smell them.

Favorite place to find inspiration: When it comes to business inspiration, Marie Forleo is hands down the best source I’ve ever come across. I look forward to her newsletter every week and have taken both of her online courses multiple times. When it comes to personal growth inspiration, my Mom is certainly my biggest source. She always has some incredible quote that she’s just read, or some amazing heartfelt wisdom to share, or a special way of taking even the worst situation and finding the gold in it. Her nickname for me is “Champ” and whenever I’m feeling down, or discouraged she says,” Champ, you gotta get off the ropes. Keep your head in the game. You can do it!” Without her I would certainly be lost.

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: My Farmer-Florist tool belt. Seriously, it changed my life! Now I never lose my phone, my jeans no longer have holes in the back pockets, and I can always find a pen or Sharpie when I need it. Sounds silly, but it really was a game changer for me.

Chris Benzakein

Role at Floret: I take most of the photos, oversee the shipping end of the shop, run the farm with the help of Jill, Marlee and Erin, handle repairs and maintenance and fill in the cracks wherever needed.

Best part of the job: Seeing our ideas and creations materialize. Witnessing the unique and powerful connections between people and flowers.

Favorite flower memory: My grandmother grew hundreds of gladiolas at her Wisconsin garden every summer. She would pick them and always make the church arrangements. I remember her being the happiest in her garden, especially when she had a handful of flowers.

Favorite place to find inspiration: I love listening to books on tape when I do deliveries. I often listen to war stories and am inspired by the courage and tenacity that it takes to overcome such intense struggles.

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: I love my Canon 6D and Mark III cameras for helping tell the story of Floret. On the farm, my favorite tools are my Kubota tractor and my Leatherman knife. I use both every day.

Jill Jorgensen

Years at Floret: I was the first florist to buy flowers from the farm when Erin was just starting out, over 8 years ago. I had a flower emergency and left a rambling message on her answering machine and the tape ran out! She kindly returned my call and we became flower friends. I’ve worked for Floret in an “official” capacity for 3 years. Prior to that I always worked traditional 8-5 jobs, but helped Erin grow Floret on the evenings and weekends, lending my creative writing skills and being a sounding board. It was a long time dream to work with her and her amazing family.

Role at Floret: It’s a beautiful mixed bag! Everyone calls me the “switchboard operator.” I help triage the work load, coordinate our workshops, and communicate with vendors. I also help Erin take smaller bites so her plate isn’t as full and break down daunting projects into achievable component parts so we can divide and conquer. I spend a lot of time at the Benzakein dining room table with Post It’s and white boards, and lots of strong coffee.

Best part of the job: How much space do I have? There are too many “best parts” to count and very often I find myself thinking, I can’t believe I get paid to do this. I take a great amount of pride in the quality of our workshops and their evolution from the smallest seed of an idea. I love communicating with really enthusiastic, supportive people via email, and then sometimes I get to meet them in person which is always really fun – lots of hugs and squeals. I love having magical Floret flowers in my house, but I love giving them away even more. I love meeting people that also get so excited about flowers (like garden roses!) that they nearly hyperventilate. I could go on forever. See, too many bests.

Favorite flower memory: My grandpa George was a pretty amazing home gardener. He’d grow a lot of things in big, galvanized trash cans with holes in the bottom and line them on the warmest spots of their great big house. All fall and winter he’d layer them with maple leaves to make what he called “black gold.” I have a great picture of him standing in front of his prized dinner plate dahlias and Sweet 100 tomatoes on long ropey vines. I can still hear him lovingly say, “Jill, look at my damn tomatoes!”

Favorite place to find inspiration: I live about 30 miles north of the farm and work remotely for most of the week. When I drive south to work, there is a stretch of I-5 that drops like a chute into the Skagit Valley and the hills open up to this vast expanse of farm land swaddled by the Cascade Mountains. I always feel my tension release, my shoulders relax and I breathe deeper, and I’m instantly filled with appreciation and gratitude.

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: In my own garden, I feel lost without a Hori Hori knife at the ready. I spend more time behind the computer though. My swivel chair, lightning fast laser printer and the Justin Bieber Pandora station make me feel like I’m handling some serious lady business.

Susan Studer King

Years at Floret: Wow, I guess it is going on three years now!

Role at Floret: I work remotely from Ohio to help pull together text and information for Floret newsletters, blog posts, story pitches, website pages, workshop materials or any other miscellaneous tasks that come my way.

Best part of the job: I love working with Erin and the rest of the team to develop resources to support flower lovers, especially fellow farmer-florists. Getting emails or reading comments from people who have been helped by something that I had a hand in pulling together is super satisfying. I don’t think I’ve ever loved a job as much as this one.

Favorite flower memory: Definitely my wedding flowers! I asked my mom to grow and design them many, many years before we started our own farmer-florist business. Every time I smell a stargazer lily, I’m transported back to that July day in 2000.

Favorite place to find inspiration: The farm where I grew up. I love exploring the windbreak with my mom and scouting for shrubs and plants for use in our design work. Plus, the barns and the attic of the farmhouse are great to explore and hold vast troves of “treasures” (what some people might call junk) that are fun to re-purpose.

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: Fabric scissors. In our design studio, there is only one pair that works well at cutting the pretty ribbon finishes for handheld bouquets and we always seem to be fighting for it.

Marlee Powell

Years at Floret: I stumbled into the Floret family in the summer of 2014.

Role at Floret: My job duties at vancouver florist are ever changing. I started as just part time harvesting help, then into full time harvester and farm hand. With the expansion of Floret as a company, I am now in charge of shipping and seed packing. I work remotely about 30-40% of the time in the fall and winter months. During spring and summer I am the point person for all of our workshops to keep everyone on track. I’m the bearer of bad news, such as FIVE MINUTES LEFT! But I say it and mean it with the utmost love!

Best part of the job: The best part of my job is seeing the joy we bring to people. That makes me feel like the hours I spend putting my heart (and back) into digging thousands of dahlias is so worth it. The simple act of sharing flowers, or even photos of flowers, has the ability to transport people out of their own world, even for a short time. Another “best part” is that I feel a part of a second little family. Being able to combine work, family and balance in my life is so important and brings so much joy to my life.

Favorite flower memory: My favorite flower memory had to be around 12 years old and my little sister was 5. My Mom home schooled us and we found a project in a book called “How to grow your own flower tee pee.” Oh man, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I was to try this! The three of us worked so hard building our tee pee and then added rows of corn, carrots, and lined the 20 x 50 foot plot with sunflowers.Sadly everything grew EXCEPT my tee pee. But those sunflowers — I had never seen such a thing. I didn’t even know they could get that big! My sister and I would run thru them and hide in our little jungle land playing in the dirt.

Favorite place to find inspiration: I do CrossFit as exercise, a sport, and something to have fun and enjoy my community through. I actually find a lot of personal inspiration with CrossFit and how it brings people together and lifts them up through fitness.I also find a lot of inspiration through pictures. I especially love the January image on Floret’s 2017 wall calendar shot by Chris. That photo of our green houses in the morning frost is so real to me. I feel the cold in my bones when I look at it. I love that a photo can make you feel very specific feelings.

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: Favorite tool has to be my Farmer-Florist tool belt! That baby makes me feel powerful and like some kind of flower pirate. Not to mention it’s HIGHLY functional. You can keep so many goodies in there! Snips, phone, rubber bands, chocolate bar, maybe some gummies…lots of things. And the tape machine is a close second. Thanks to you all, that thing is getting a workout!

Jill Powell (aka) “Angel Jill”

Years at Floret: 5 years

Role at Floret: I sow seeds, plant, weed, keep things clean, flip greenhouses (pull out spent flowers and replant), set up drip irrigation, get everything ready for workshops and help in the shop if needed.

Best part of the job: All of it. There’s always something different to do. Depending on the season it could be seed sowing, planting, weeding.

Favorite flower memory: The first summer I worked here we filled the entire truck with freshly harvested blue statice.

Favorite place to find inspiration: Working across from Erin because I realize I can go even faster than I thought ; )

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: The pallet forks on the tractor, the battery operated compost tea sprayer, the electric stapler and the Japanese weeding hoe.

Meg Almanza

Years at Floret: Almost two years now.

Role at Floret: I help manage the house, keep things clean and organized. At the workshops I help set up and breakdown the events, plus handle the food and hosting guests. I also work with Erin to tackle big projects like reworking spaces for maximum efficiency, setting up systems within the business, and keeping inventory organized and accounted for.

Best part of the job: I love contributing to the ongoing success of Floret and assisting Erin with the home and the business. I get the most out of my job when I am making someone else happy and I strive to do that every chance I get.

Favorite flower memory: I never had an appreciation for flowers until I came to work at Floret. But after seeing them growing at the farm and the sheer magnitude of their beauty, they’ve taken over my soul. Seeing the way that people react to the beauty of them at the workshops is overwhelming. My biggest joy is when Erin sends me home with buckets of leftover flowers. I fiddle around putting them together in little arrangements and put them all around my house. They make me smile when I get up in the morning.

Favorite place to find inspiration: I love to go junking, “lookie looing” around and finding special things for people in my life to make them feel good.

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: My wagon cart! I can haul all kinds of stuff and it helps me save time when I running back and forth. It makes me feel like I’m accomplishing a whole lot of stuff in a short amount of time. Erika Stephens

Years at Floret: Two years.

Role at Floret: I help with the Floret workshops and have helped with weddings.

Best part of the job: I love to see the students as they come into the barn, feeling held and welcomed. The flowers. I love to watch people open themselves a bit more as they are given new concepts relating to their farms, businesses and their lives as a whole.

Favorite flower memory: Helping my grandmother Astrid cut and hang to dry roses for wreathes she would make. I loved to be close to her and the smell of the roses. I don’t know if it was actually the roses that smelled or she was wearing tea rose perfume. Doesn’t matter, I loved it all the same.

Favorite place to find inspiration: I love to look at Andy Goldsworthy’s photographs and the concept that his art is ephemeral and a large part of the reason he chooses to photograph his pieces, so that they become “everlasting.”

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: My Grundens rain overalls and Bogg boots. Close second, the flower snips.

Nina Foster

Years at Floret: I have been with Floret from the start! Erin and I met when our girls went to kindergarten together. We were each other’s first flower friend. While our kids played, we talked about our dreams and visions over coffee, seed catalogs, and Martha Stewart Living!

Role at Floret: I now live in Vermont and fly back to act as the hostess for the workshops. My job is to make sure all the attendees are comfortable. I am a total mama bear to all.

Best part of the job: The best part of my job is meeting new flower friends, and getting to be part of their experience at Floret. It’s a beautiful thing to witness people following their hopes and dreams.

Favorite flower memory: My older sister Gray, taking me hunting for trilliums and fairies in early spring in the forests in Vermont. Those trilliums were pure magic.

Favorite place to find inspiration: When in Washington, my favorite place for inspiration would be Rosario Beach and Erin’s roses! In Vermont, I have trails in the forests I walk daily. Nature has always been my biggest inspiration.

Favorite tool on the farm or studio: I’d have to say my Floret tool belt is my favorite tool on the farm and in studio. It holds everything!

Readmore:��A few of my favorite things

#vancouver flower delivery

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