#sorry but I’ve decided I need to study backgrounds

[lindenhe]

What if their adventures lead them to Icewind Dale?

And a little lineless (almost) experiment cause a couple of years ago i used to ignore it a lot

[ce1estiall]

different

warnings fluff

summary uconn!paige x fem!reader paige asks you a question about meeting you for the first time that seems to be taking over her head. masterlist.

celestial notes hey guys! quick fic i thought of right now. i’m going to work of chapter 3 of taste of love this week, but i need some ideas!! feel free to send any. enjoy!

“i got the sauce, can’t be compared

i am different, only one in the world

only one.” le sserafim - different

the library was at peace, only a handful of students studying. keyboard typing and scribbling filled the empty background noise.

your anatomy textbook stared infront of you, filled with different colors and side notes on the pages. your matcha you had bought earlier that day stood on the side, sweating. your computer glowed with different presentations that you were taking notes on. you were at a desk that had window views on the left side, there was a hallway and a door infront of your desk on the right.

you placed your earbuds in, putting on a lofi playlist from spotify as your kept going through the presentations on your computer, taking notes on important details. you heard the door open but decided to ignore it, until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“do you mind if i sit next to you?” a voice spoke. you took off your earbuds and turned around. paige bueckers was talking to you. a stranger she’s never met, talking to you out of the blue.

you were caught off guard. “oh yeah, sure.” you moved your backpack and some of your stationary supplies, allowing her to have some room on the desk.

paige placed her backpack on the side of her chair. “sorry if i interrupted a study session, i really didn’t mean to bother you.”

“i was just writing some notes, no worries.” you didn’t place your earbuds back in, having a feeling she was gonna strike up a conversation. and bingo, she did.

“you take anatomy? i have that class, but i feel like i’ve never seen you before.” paige asked curiously as she started to take her computer out of her backpack.

“i usually sit in the very back. i’m either here or in my dorm studying or reading books.” you say, sending paige a soft smile.

she smiled back. “bookworm i see, no shame.”

“none taken.” you chuckle. you grabbed your matcha and took a sip, the cooling sensation lingering down your throat.

paige pointed at the cup. “what’s that? green juice?”

you giggle. “not really. its matcha, green tea.”

“is it good?” paige asked curiously.

“well i love matcha, but some people don’t really enjoy the taste. that’s because they don’t add flavoring or sweetener.” you placed the drink back down and started highlighting in your textbook again.

“sorry if i keep sounding like a bother, but i’m kinda stuck on the assignment, do you mind helping me?” she asked. paige felt like she was taking up your time or interrupting you. however, you loved helping other people any way you could.

you spoke softly. “don’t ever think your a bother to me. i love helping people. of course ill help you.”

its now been 3 years since that interaction. you both are now seniors in college. she never left your side since that day, and even started sitting next to you in the back in anatomy.

paige asked you to be your girlfriend while you both were juniors, and you were the happiest you’ve ever been.

a soft knock rattled on your door, “come in!” you shouted. once you saw the blonde hair from the couch, you knew who it was.

“i had a feeling you were coming.” you said, springing up and running to give her a hug. paige rested your head on your shoulder, kissing your neck then your cheek, leaving a tingle after every one.

“missed you so much today, i’m exhausted.” she spoke. paige sounded tired, a tired you’ve never heard from her.

you cupped her cheek, “long day?” she nodded. her eyes temporarily lost her sparkle. you took her hand and guided her to the couch. paige laid down on you lap, you hands finding her scalp. you massaged small circles, hoping to give her some relaxation. “wanna watch a movie?” you asked handing her the control.

“nah, just wanna be here with you.” she whispered. she sounded like she couple fall asleep any minute, until a question popped up in her mind. “baby, can i ask you something?”

“anything.” you spoke back, raking her hair back from her face.

“how come when i first met you, you weren’t like a super crazy fan. like the one’s who would freak out when they see me or the ones who wait for my signature. you didn’t see me as a celebrity, you saw me as a person. why?” it sounded like a question she had for a while, but never brought herself to ask you. maybe she was scared for your response.

a wave of silence took over until you had your answer. “i knew about you, but i wasn’t like i guess a huge fan. i don’t know how to explain it. maybe its because i didn’t really know how basketball worked back then?” you said, giving a chuckle. “i just saw you as a unselfish curious person with a big heart, and that’s who i fell in love with. now, obviously i’m going to be your #1 fan, always.”

she turned her head to give you a smile. a smile that could make you warm instantly. you placed a kiss on her cheek.

“i like that. you’re not like the other girls i used to date. you’re…different.” she said, turning around to soak up the scalp massage you were giving her.

you paused. “what do you mean?”

paige sighed, her body language changed. you could feel the sadness on her. “all the girls i talked to wanted me for my fame or for them to only say ‘look, i’m dating the paige bueckers!’. and it hurt me back then because i thought i loved them. but that changed when i found you.” she got up and sat next to you, using your shoulder as a head rest. you rested your head alongside hers, feeling the warmth.

“and you still don’t like matcha.” you smiled, remembering her first impressions of it.

paige pouted. “yuck. its green and its bitter, i have no idea how you drink that stuff.”

“whatever your opinions are, i’ll still love you.” you gave her a small peck on the lips. “thank you for asking me that question, paige.”

[hyuckswoman]

alumnusbf!mark helping you study

pairing: alumnus mark (who’s also your bf) x reader

genre: fluff

summary: you’re stressing over this one subject until your bf appears

“fucking hell” you mutter, your finals were in a week and you were currently studying the subject you have been dreading since the beginning of the study period. Studying for exams was not fun. Especially when you had this gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you that you were 100% going to fail.

markie

hey babe, you busy?

upon hearing the notification, you cursed at yourself as you swore you put your phone on do not disturb to avoid distractions .Yet here you were grabbing it to check the notification. turns out you did put your phone on do not disturb but since your boyfriend (who had to practically beg you to get removed off there texted you) was the origin of the notification, your phone still notified you.

being too lazy to write back, you just decided to call him

“hey, what’s up? I’m studying for my finals right now” you say after greeting him “oh really? I’m sorry to disturb then, how long have you been studying?” your boyfriend mark asks “hours. i literally had a full on mental breakdown studying the course because i suck at it and it feels like no matter how hard I study I just keep on failing” you say sighing “did you cry?” mark asks, maybe he knows you a little too well. “yea” you sigh yet again, it bothered you to see how big of a toll your academics were taking on you

“that’s a good thing then! wait no I don’t mean you crying is a good thing I meant it’s a good thing I’m on my way with food and stuff to give you a break” your boyfriend says making you laugh “mark, look I really truly appreciate it but I also really need to study” you say. honestly seeing how fucked you were because of this one course you couldn’t allow any distractions, and lord knows mark was a pretty big one

“no I know, we’ll just eat and then I’ll help you study. trust when I’ll leave you’ll be back in your academic weapon antics” mark says. after weighing your options (not that you had much of a choice seeing as though he was already on his way) you figured that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. you had the chance of having a boyfriend who already graduated which meant he already passed this course so maybe it’d actually help

“hi babe, i brought food” your boyfriend says, you were glad you had a boyfriend that supported your big backed antics. “i might make you my male wife at this point” you said as he hugged you. you guys then decided to turn on the tv and put a show none of you cared about for the sole purpose of having some background noise.

“okay, we’ve been slacking off for long enough, let’s get to studying now” your boyfriend says. you almost forgot about your finals for a second.

“okay, we’re done making the flash cards, quiz time” mark says quietly laughing upon seeing your face. “every right answer you get, i’ll kiss you” he says finding a way to motivate you as you looked like you were on the verge of dying. “I don’t think it helps, you distract me too much. i’ll probably only remember the kisses and not the actual class material” you reply. As much as it didn’t look like it you were seriously (for once) in the mood to study, you couldn’t let this pretty man distract you no more.

a short while after you were thrown over your desk defeated because what do you mean you only got like half the questions right???

“I don’t understand I’ve spent literal hours trying to memorize this shit I’m sick of it I just want it to be over” you sigh, this is the first time you’ve struggled this much over a school subject. usually being a bit above average doesn’t require you a lot of efforts so you never really tried that hard to pass your classes throughout the years. college beat the shit out of you tho!! you found yourself completely taken aback by the difficulty and you had to learn how to properly study throughout the years. if somebody asked you, you’d say you’ve got studying covered but seeing how this study session was going maybe you didn’t…

“I think you’re getting those wrong because you don’t understand this part” mark says patting your head as you mumble an ‘i know’. being the very considerate boyfriend he is, he then proceeded to explain the entirety of the material, dumbing it down whenever you looked up at him confused or when your eyebrows frowned a little too much. he also was so very patient, explaining the same things to you three different times as you had already forgotten what he said as soon as he moved on to another topic.

the dedication mark put into your academics was just too much for your heart to handle, you loved him so much and the fact he didn’t mind spending his evening studying with you instead of doing literally anything else warmed your heart. that’s why you didn’t have it in you to tell him you were getting gradually sleepier and were fighting your mind to stay awake because how could you when he looked so good concentrated trying to explain to you what you deem as the most incomprehensible subject ever.

“y/n? i feel like I’m losing your attention are you- oh.” mark says finally looking up from your study sheets seeing you asleep on your desk “pft, I didn’t know I was this boring damn” he laughs. since you were already in your pajamas and were in a position where the man could not carry you to bed he decided to gently shake you to wake you up “hm? I’m sorry I fell asleep markie, thank you for studying with me I love you. let me read the cards again to make sure I understand better” you say your voice a bit groggy “what? no go to sleep, nothing you read now will be effective just rest and sleep will take care of the memorizing for you” mark says preparing your bed for you “okay but only if you join me” you say already laying down under your covers “of course dude, let me put the things away and I’ll join you” mark says as he looks over to your half awake self that’s seemingly waiting for him

being in front of your final paper makes you realize even more how lucky you are to have mark in your life because you knew damn well that if the study session never happened you would have been shitting bricks internally crying over how much you don’t understand but now you got out of the final feeling confident you didn’t fail. you ran up to mark who was waiting for you to celebrate final period being over and he couldn’t help but mimic your immense grin as you told him how the final went better than what you had expected and thanked him for his help. He did refute by telling you it was all you and your mind but settled on taking a little bit of credit after you threatened him.

it was kinda crazy how mark made everything easy, every single thing without exception. looking at your boyfriend eating his meal you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how much you loved that man and how lucky you were to have him in your life.

[xmalereader]

Simon Riley x Medic! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: I’m finally updating again 😫, I’ve been busy with my studies and advancing in my Japanese before I leave next year, gotta be prepared and working extra hours for the money 🤪, but either way. I was able to get a few requests completed and will make sure to update as much as I can!

Request: Remember the quest where graves seize all Los Vaqurous (Dunno the spelling sorry- ;-;) and have to kill both ghost and soap? What if Reader who is medic from Ghost Team and Graves saw the potential and decide to have Medic Reader for himself so he seize Reader too. Follow the plot of the game, they got Reader last after saving Alejandro and his team. Happy ending where Reader said "You found me... " and Ghost reply with "I always found you" :D

Warnings: Language, background, reader is a medic, soft ghost, slight angst, mentions of past trauma, Graves is a creep, Spanish language, Price likes reader.

Word Count: 1.9K

Tag: @keera9534

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Y/n was the teams best medic, being picked by Price himself due to knowing how good he was at patching up the team and providing the proper medicine. He first joined the team when Price was in need to medical help after taking a bullet to the abdomen. When they brought him in, the nurses and doctors were far too frantic and full of worry as they ran around the medical wing checking on other wounded soldiers and trying to attend to them, leaving Price with no medical attention. The captain had tried to patch himself up since it wasn’t the first time that he’s gotten injured and had stitched himself up.

But the situation was far worse and the bullet had been lodged inside which made it difficult for Price to get it done himself. It wasn’t until one of the rookies quickly stepped up, attending Price and making sure that he’s given the proper attention. The captain was too drowsy to fight off the rookie due to blood lose that Y/n acted quickly, ignoring Prices cursing and pained groans while he worked on his wound, using the proper tools to remove the bullet and get him stitched up.

Price noticed how fast the rookie worked and how quick he is to stitch and patch him up. The captain was left in surprise and impressed by his work only for the rookie to get in trouble by doing something he wasn’t stationed to do. That same day Price took interest in the rookie and asked Laswell about him, getting his records and reading into his life and finding out that the young man had gone to the best medical schools and ended up here.

The kid was reckless, but knew what he was doing and Price liked that.

Y/n was the first to be recruited by Price, getting trained in combat and how to handle a gun in order to keep himself alive while out on the field with the others. After a few months Price later brings in Ghost into the team, scaring the poor rookie when they first met. The doctor found him intimidating due to his silence and the skull mask he wore, rarely talking to Y/n whenever the two were in the same room or whenever he was patching him up.

The two only spoke whenever they were on missions, but never in private.

The doctor figured that he wouldn’t be getting along with Ghost for really long time since they rarely spoke, only for that to change when one of the soldiers that he was helping started hitting on him. Flirting with him and finding excuses to see him whenever he was injured and the doctor grew irritated by it. It all happened when the Solider grew upset with Y/n ignoring his snarky flirting, cornering him and growing desperate only for Ghost to randomly appear behind man and pull him away from the doctor.

Ghost had given the man a deadly look that frightened the man easily and was quick to scurry away. Y/n appreciated Ghosts help and offered to buy him a drink as a thank you which Ghost easily accepts, giving the two a chance to finally talk with each other out of base and non work related. That night was all it took in order for their feelings to grow, sometimes tip towing around each other, but it was clear as day that the two liked each other deeply.

Their relationship deepened as the years went by to the point where they ended up dating for a two years, working together in the field along with Gaz, Soap, and Price. The three knew how inseparable both Ghost and Y/n were that it wasn’t a surprise when they were assigned to work under the Shadow Company, getting the know Graves who they followed orders from.

His time working with the Shadow company was strange. Y/n sensed that something wasn’t right when he was grounded by Graves and to stay in base and work as a doctor from there, which he did not like. Their were times where he tried to get in communication with Ghost and to tell him about the strange feeling he was getting only for his requests to speak with the lieutenant to be rejected which only made the feeling worse.

It wasn’t until the night that Graves decided to go against them that all hell broke loose.

The alarms of the base were going off and the sounds of shouting and protests were being heard.

Y/n was rushing out of the medical room, looking around with confusion and worry as a few soldiers were running around the place. “Que esta pasando?” He asks one of the soldiers running down the hallways as they quickly tell him that they are being rounded up in the main lobby. It doesn’t really reassure him about the alarms going off and heads towards the lobby.

“Round them up!”

“Get them in the cells!”

He stands over the lobby to see Graves shadows rounding up Alejandros men, pointing their guns at them and forcing them into cells. The image alone lets him be aware of what is going on, noticing one of the Shadows spotting him and calling out. “We have one on the balcony!”

“Shit!” Y/n is quick to duck down when they shoot their guns at him, making him run out of sight and trying to find a way out of base without getting killed.

He’s able to make it down the first floor without being detected only to turn the corner and come face to face with Graves. “Easy, doc.” He says while grabbing him by the arms, stopping his struggles when he noticed three shadows behind Graves and armed. “I ain’t gonna hurt you doc, your far too special.” Said Graves as Y/n glared at him, gritting his teeth in anger as he pulls his arm away from his hold. “I knew something was bad about you.” He points out while his eyes remain on Graves, keeping a close eye on him as the man chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s already too late. Your friends are probably dead by now since my shadows are hunting them down as we speak.”

Y/n scoffs. “I guess your leaving me for last to kill?”

Graves grins. “Oh. Oh no, you—“ He takes a slow step forward while Y/n takes one back. “You I will keep, your a good doctor and I will be needing you for sure, but for now I need to make sure you don’t escape.” Graves signals the three shadows towards Y/n, “Lock him up, separated from the others while I clean up this mess.”

Y/n takes a step back from the shadows and tries to fight back, kicking and punching them only for them to grab him by the arms and wrists and pining him against the wall, grunting and glaring before he’s dragged away from Graves who only watched with a sinister smirk on his face. He’s taken to his own cell, tossed inside without a care while they locket the door on him.

“Son of a bitch!” He shouts, slamming his firsts against the metal door and pulling on the handle, knowing that it wouldn’t work already. “I swear to god when I get out of here I am going to kill you!” He goes on, throwing out his own threats to anyone who can hear him. He doesn’t forget Graves’ words and how he was hunting down his team for all he knows both Soap and Ghost could be dead, but refuses to believe it. Soap was a great shot and Ghost.

Well, he was something else.

A simple shadow couldn’t kill him.

Simon had been through far worse condition. When they were a few months into their relationship and the trust between the two was growing, Simon had gained the courage to finally talk to Y/n about his past. When Simon told him about his time as a kid and the way his father treated him made the doctor realize how bad his life really was and the reason why he joined the British military. Y/n didn’t judge Simon nor did he ever bring up his traumas whenever they were alone, only thinking about it in silence.

Their conversation deepened their bond and the two grew closer than ever.

While Y/n paced around the room he tries to figure out a way out of this cell, checking every crook and cranny as his fingers skim over the barred windows only to curser under his breath when he doesn’t find anything. “Dammit, Alejandro this place is sealed.” He mumbled out to himself.

He checks under the bed, hoping to find anything that could help him and crawls underneath. “This could work.” He finds the metal bed frame to be rusty, crawling out and using his strength to kick a piece off, groaning with each kick until the metal piece falls off, taking it in his hand and working quickly to scrape it against the concrete floor, sharpening it enough to use as a weapon.

Before he could finish up the sound of gun shots is heard from outside his cell, causing him to freeze as the alarms of the base are going off again. He doesn’t stop to think and quickly continues to sharpen the metal and quickly finished up. He holds it in his hand tight while standing close to the doorway, preparing for anyone who comes in.

The sound of gun shots grows louder, hearing muffled shouts in the background as he keeps his eyes on the metal door. The sound of tumbling bodies gets him alerted while holding up the sharpened metal piece, moving closer to the door as chains rattle on the other end, he pressed himself against the corner as the door is prided open.

The doctor doesn’t think and is quick to react, swinging his arm down at the shadow entering his cell, but his hit us quickly blocked. He kicks his leg and brings him down on his knee, using his other arm to wrap around his neck and hold the sharpened blade against his neck.

“Y/n!”

The sound of a familiar voice gets his attention, looking up to see Simon standing on the other side of the door along with Rudy and Alejandro who stared with wide eyes by how fast he is to defend himself. “Ghost?” He breaths out, looking down to see who he has in a headlock only to see Soap. “Shit, Soap—“ He quickly lets go of him and lowered down his own weapon.

“No worries, mate. Understandable reaction.” Said Soap with a nervous laugh while slowly getting up from where he kneeled.

“I thought…” Y/n starts, eyes focused on Ghost who approached him slowly, taking the blade from his hand and tossing it aside while the doctor stares at Ghost. “I didn’t think you’d come for me.” He whispers and Ghost gives off a soft chuckle. “I’ll always come for you.” He responds back, reminding the doctor that he would never leave him behind.

“Come on, lets get out of here and get somewhere safe.” Alejandro is quick to speak up while they leave the cell and help out Alejandro’s man out of their own cells. “Here.” Ghost reached for one of his pistols and hands it to Y/n who takes it into his own hands and cocks the gun. “Why do I get the small one?” He pouts out, getting a reaction from the other man who rolled his eyes. “You’ll get a bigger one once we are out of here.” Y/n chuckled softly at his response. “That’s a promise.” He whispers loud enough for Ghost to hear before following the others out, getting them to safety.

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Seven: Resolve

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 12.1k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Seonghwa invites you to the serene local park where he delivers the exciting news that you’ve secured the modeling job, marking a significant step forward in your new life in Paris. However, as you bask in the joy of this achievement, a nagging concern about Hongjoong’s sketchbook lingers in your mind. By the time you get your first modeling gig, you form a plan to return it to him on the very same day, but the uncertainty of how he will react keeps you on edge. Could things possibly get any worse than they already are?

a/n: so sorry for the long wait (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) i’ve been going through a major writer’s block lately (and i’m also really busy with my studies) but luckily i managed to finish this chapter before completely losing motivation again 😅 i’d love to have some feedback! <3

tags: @beabatiny

You were busy preparing breakfast for yourself—this time choosing to make an actual meal. You had finally caved in and decided to take a little portion from your savings instead of just settling for a pack of ramen. You decided you didn’t want to jeopardize your health with your terrible dietary choices. The aroma of sizzling eggs and freshly toasted bread filled the small kitchen, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

In the background, the record player your mother had insisted you take with you to Paris was spinning an old vinyl you had secretly taken from your father back in Arcadia Bay. The familiar, nostalgic notes of “La Vie En Rose” filled the room, and you couldn’t help but hum softly to the melody, feeling a bittersweet connection to home. While your hometown wasn’t exactly filled with memories as lighthearted as a rainbow after a thunderstorm, there was a little portion of them that you deemed heartwarming enough to remember—such as this.

Just as you were about to turn off the stove, your phone rang, cutting through the serene atmosphere. You frowned slightly, wondering who could be calling you this early. Wiping your hands on a towel, you picked up the phone and saw your mother’s name flashing on the screen. A sense of unease crept up your spine as you answered. “Mom? Is everything okay?” you asked, feeling a somewhat strange vibe in the air.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she greeted you, but there was a noticeable heaviness in her tone that immediately set off alarm bells in your mind. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need to talk to you.”

You quickly turned off the stove and paused the record player, giving her your full attention. Whenever those exact words came out of her mouth, it never meant anything positive, which was precisely why you were now standing near the edge. “What’s going on, Mom? You sound upset.”

There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her voice trembling slightly. “Your father and I... we're having a really hard time sustaining our financial needs. The café... it’s just not doing well. We’re getting fewer and fewer customers every day, and we’re really worried.”

Your heart sank. You knew how much the café meant to them, how hard they had worked to build it from the ground up. Years ago, when they decided you were grown enough to be able to take care of yourself, they flew to a different city, hoping to find a glimmer of hope amidst all the struggles you and your family have and still are going through. That glimmer of hope in question was deciding to open up their own small business.

“Mom… I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do to help? Anything, really,” you asked, desperation evident in your voice.

She sighed heavily. “I don’t know, dear. We’re trying everything we can, but we’re really scared it might take even longer to repay our debts.”

The mention of their debts made you feel a pang of guilt, especially knowing the major turning point in your life from years ago was the cause of it all. You knew they had taken on a lot to support you and your dreams, and now it felt like you were only adding to their burden. “This is all my fault… I’m so sorry. If I get the modeling job, I promise I’ll work so hard and earn so much that you and Dad will never have to worry again. You’ve already done so much for me. Let me repay you.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not a burden, and none of this is your fault,” she reassured you, her voice softening. “We’re proud of you, and we want you to succeed. Don’t think like that.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you choked out, “I just hate that you’re struggling because of me. Please, try not to stress too much. I’m going to make it. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know you will, darling,” she said, trying to sound optimistic. “But remember, we’re always here for you, no matter what. We love you.”

“I love you too, Mom. Please take care of yourselves. I’ll call you soon,” you promised, your voice as quiet as the whisper of a passing breeze.

After saying goodbye, you ended the call and stood there, your phone still clutched tightly in your hand. The weight of her words embraced you heavily, making it hard to breathe. Slowly, you sank to the floor, your knees giving out as the tears you had been holding back finally fell.

You sat there, crying quietly, the phone pressed against your chest as you whispered to yourself, “This is all my fault.” The reality of your parents’ struggles and the pressure to succeed was a heavy weight to bear, leaving you feeling utterly helpless.

You had always felt like a burden, despite your parents’ constant reassurances that you weren’t. No matter how often they told you they were proud of you, that you were their greatest joy, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that you were the source of their struggles.

The thought that haunted you the most was the memory of that one terrible day when everything seemed to spiral out of control. If only things hadn’t gone so horribly wrong. If only the world had been a little kinder to your parents, maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation. Sometimes, in your darkest moments, you wondered if things would have been easier for them if you had never been born. These thoughts had followed you around for years, like a shadow you could never fully escape.

You thought you had left those feelings behind when you moved to Paris. For a month, you managed to keep those dark thoughts at bay, throwing yourself into your new life with a determination to succeed. But now, with the reminder of your parents’ struggles, the harsh reality came crawling back to bite you, and it stung.

You were as fragile as a piece of glass, easily shattered by the weight of your guilt and the pressure to make things right. The façade of strength you had built up over the years crumbled away, revealing the vulnerable, scared person beneath. Maybe you were never as strong as you had made yourself out to be after all.

While you sat there on the cold floor, clutching your phone and sobbing, you felt utterly alone and helpless. The weight of your parents’ sacrifices and the fear of letting them down was almost too much to bear. You wanted so desperately to make things better for them, to prove that their efforts and love weren’t in vain. But in this moment, all you could feel was the crushing weight of your own inadequacy. The dreams and aspirations that had once filled you with hope now seemed like distant, unattainable goals.

A message notification from your phone suddenly emerged, breaking the loud silence of your broken sobs. It was from Seonghwa.

Are you free later in the afternoon?

4PM, specifically.

Quickly wiping your tears, you typed out a reply, telling him that you were indeed free. His response was swift.

Alright, meet me at the park by then. I have something important to tell you.

Your heart dropped even more, worrying that maybe it was some sort of terrible news. But you just told him you’d make sure to be there on time.

Standing up, you wiped the remaining tears using the sleeve of your sweater. You put the record back on to distract yourself from your thoughts, humming to the melody once more as a way of pretending that things were as normal as they could be, as if the phone call with your mother hadn’t occurred at all. The familiar tune of “La Vie En Rose” filled the room, providing a temporary distraction to your troubled mind as you went back to preparing your breakfast.

Hours later, you found yourself walking around the park, searching for Seonghwa. Just as you took your phone out to ask where he was, you received a cryptic text message from him.

I see you.

This made you raise an eyebrow in amusement and maybe a little fear. You remembered how a few of your work colleagues from Arcadia Bay used to do this to you all the time when they invited you to hang out. Maybe not all memories from your hometown were horrible, after all.

After looking around once more, you spotted him sitting on a bench on the other side of the park, holding two cups of coffee in one hand while the other waved to you, a smile on his face. You hurriedly made your way over and greeted him, taking the offered cup of coffee and thanking him. “Thank you for this, Seonghwa,” you said, sitting down beside him. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the cup, comforting you slightly.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his smile lingering but a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

Curiosity gnawed at you, and you finally asked, “So, why did you ask me to come here so suddenly?” There was a slight shift in his demeanor as he turned a little more serious. This always seemed to happen whenever he needed to talk about work matters. Noticing this, you straightened up in your seat, bracing yourself for what was about to come.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, setting his coffee down on the bench. “I wanted to talk to you about the agency, the callback, and the process of choosing which aspiring models deserve the spot they’re aiming for. It’s a rigorous process, as you know. The panel looks at various factors: potential, adaptability, and how well a person can embody the vision we have for our projects.”

You nodded, your hands clutching your coffee cup tighter. “Yes, I understand,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, as if you weren’t nearly losing your mind.

He continued, “The decision isn’t just about how you look in the photographs or how you perform in front of the camera. It’s about your story, your passion, and your determination. It’s about how well you can represent the brand and connect with the audience.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing louder in your ears. “So… did I… did I make it?” you asked, almost whispering.

Seonghwa paused for a moment, letting the tension build. Then, a smile broke out on his face. “Yes,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and pride. “You got in. You got the job.”

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Relief, disbelief, and overwhelming joy mingled together, making you feel lightheaded. “I… What? I can’t believe it,” you stammered, tears welling up in your eyes again, but this time, joy was the cause behind it.

Seonghwa reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “Believe it,” he said softly. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and it’s finally paying off. We all saw something special in you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Thank you, Seonghwa. Thank you for believing in me… for seeing something in me. I won’t let you down.”

He nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. “I know you won’t. This is just the beginning for you. There’s so much more ahead, and I can’t wait to see what you’ll achieve.”

The realization began to sink in, and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the sound of disbelief and happiness mixing together. “This feels like a dream,” you confessed, wiping away the tears that kept streaming down your face. “Just hours ago, I was breaking down, thinking about how I might never get this opportunity. And now… now, I have it.”

Seonghwa smiled warmly, his expression softening. “I understand. It's a lot to take in. But you deserve this. You’ve shown so much potential and passion. We all believe in you, and I’m so happy to have you on board.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief engulf you in a warm embrace, much like the setting sun. “I don’t even know how to express how grateful I am,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “This means everything to me. I promise I’ll give it my all, every single day.”

Seonghwa’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I have no doubt about that. You’re going to do amazing things. This is just the start of a wonderful journey.”

You felt a rush of gratitude, your heart swelling with warmth. “I can’t thank you enough, Seonghwa. For everything. For believing in me, for giving me this chance. It feels like a dream come true.”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “Well, consider it a reality now. You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think this is just the beginning of something truly amazing for you. You’ve got the talent, the drive, and the heart. That’s a powerful combination.”

You smiled, feeling a newfound sense of confidence. “Thank you, Seonghwa. Your words mean a lot to me. I'm going to work hard and make you proud.”

“I have no doubt about that,” he replied warmly. “And don't forget to enjoy the journey. It's going to be hectic, but it’s an incredible ride all the same.”

With a final, heartfelt thank you, you both stood up from the bench. Seonghwa gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “How about we go on a walk? You know, a small way to celebrate this moment,” he said with a grin. “You deserve it.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “I think I could use a little celebration,” you admitted.

As you both continued to walk around the park, sipping on your half-empty coffee cups, Seonghwa began to delve into the upcoming autumn fashion week. “So, autumn fashion week is a massive event for us,” he started, excitement evident in his voice. “It’s where we’ll be showcasing all the new collections for the season. Hongjoong has been working tirelessly on this for months.”

You listened intently, eager to hear every detail. Seonghwa continued, “The theme this year is ‘Enchantment of Dreams.’ Hongjoong wanted to capture the delicate beauty of autumn, but with a twist. Think of flowing fabrics, soft, muted colors, and a mix of natural elements with a bit of fantasy. It’s all about creating a dreamy, almost otherworldly atmosphere.”

He paused to let the theme sink in before moving on. “The types of designs we’re aiming for include long, flowing gowns made from light, airy fabrics like chiffon and silk. There are also more structured pieces that incorporate natural textures like leaves and flowers. Some of the designs even have intricate beadwork and embroidery that give them a mystical feel. Like they’re made for forest fairies, you know.”

You could picture the collection in your mind, a blend of nature and fantasy coming to life on the runway. “That sounds so beautiful,” you whispered, nearly to yourself, genuinely impressed.

Seonghwa smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “It really is. Hongjoong has such a clear vision for what he wants to present. He’s been sketching and refining these designs for months. Each piece is a work of art.”

Curiosity got the better of you, and you asked, “How’s the process going so far?”

Seonghwa let out a sigh. “Well, aside from successfully recruiting models that are suitable for the event’s theme, we’re stuck in a bit of a predicament.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What kind of predicament, exactly?”

Seonghwa’s expression turned more serious. “All of Hongjoong’s designs for fashion week were in his sketchbook, but the thing is, it’s missing. He still hasn’t found it.”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Not only did the sketchbook belong to Hongjoong, but now you were also finding out that all his designs for autumn fashion week were drafted in there? Your steps faltered, and you nearly stopped in your tracks, eyes wide with shock.

I have to return it to him. No, I definitely need to return it to him. I can’t let myself be further consumed by my fears when the consequences waiting ahead are far worse than losing my job. Keeping something of such immense value is not an option. There will be a huge price to pay, but it’s nothing compared to the damage that could be done if Hongjoong doesn’t get his sketchbook back in time for fashion week.

Seonghwa noticed your sudden silence and the far-off look in your eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

You snapped back to reality, giving him a reassuring nod. “Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

Seonghwa seemed to accept your explanation and didn’t pry any further. “It’s understandable. There’s a lot to process,” he said kindly.

Trying to steer the conversation back, you asked, “How is Hongjoong holding up with the sketchbook missing? He must be really stressed.”

Seonghwa sighed again. “He’s definitely not in the best place right now. Losing that sketchbook was a huge blow. He’s been frantically trying to recreate the designs from memory, but it’s not the same. That sketchbook held his original inspirations and ideas.”

You could only imagine the pressure Hongjoong must be under. “That sounds incredibly tough. I hope he finds it soon.” I hope I can return it to him soon.

Seonghwa nodded. “We all do. Everyone’s been looking for it, hoping it will turn up before it's too late.”

As the conversation continued, you felt a growing sense of urgency. You knew what you had to do. Returning the sketchbook wasn’t just about doing the right thing—it was about helping someone in a desperate situation. The weight of that responsibility was heavy, but it also gave you a sense of clarity and purpose. You walked with Seonghwa a bit longer, discussing lighter topics and enjoying each other’s company. But in the back of your mind, the decision was made. You had to find a way to return the sketchbook to Hongjoong before it’s too late.

—

The Fashion Week was still quite a long road away, but Seonghwa insisted you should get your first exposure to the fashion world in advance. This way, you’d gain valuable experience and not feel too pressured by the time fashion week arrived. Today, you were set to do a photoshoot featuring Hongjoong’s recent collection released earlier this year. The collection’s theme was ‘The Beauty of Time,’ a blend of vintage charm and modern sophistication. It featured outfits with intricate lace details, flowing silk skirts, and structured blazers in rich jewel tones. The setting was an old Parisian mansion, with grand staircases and opulent chandeliers, perfectly matching the collection’s vibe.

You also had a mission to return the sketchbook to Hongjoong today—before your fear could fully consume you and let the day pass by as a heavy failure. You just had to find a way.

Now, you were at the photoshoot venue, being prepped by one of the stylists. She seemed a few years older than you, with a kind demeanor that put you at ease. As she worked on your hair and makeup, you two indulged in small talk. “Have you ever done something like this before?” she asked, her eyes reflecting genuine curiosity.

You softly shook your head. “No, this is an entirely foreign world to me.”

She seemed genuinely shocked. “Really? That’s hard to believe because you have the perfect features for a model. We’re lucky Seonghwa found you before any other agency did. Are you from around here?”

You smiled at her compliment, feeling a bit more at ease. “Thank you. And, no, I’m actually from a small town, not from Paris.”

“Ah, that explains it,” she said with a knowing nod. “Small towns tend to have restricted opportunities. Perhaps that’s why your well-deserved exposure is long overdue.” You nodded in agreement, appreciating her understanding. It was true, in a way. If Arcadia Bay wasn’t as small as it was, you probably never would’ve considered flying to Paris. Unfortunately, reality has a twisted knack for imposing challenges even when you’re not up for it.

After she finished styling you, she complimented your look and wished you luck. Just as she left the room, Seonghwa walked in, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Wow, you look elegant.”

You smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. You weren’t used to receiving compliments, much more being called elegant. “Thank you. The stylist was really nice.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? She isn’t usually talkative around models. She must’ve taken a liking to you.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit more confident. “Well, I’m glad. She made me feel comfortable.”

Seonghwa smiled, clearly pleased. “Good to hear. Now, let’s get you to the photoshoot.” You nodded, taking a deep breath as you followed him. You wore a stunning outfit from Hongjoong’s collection: a flowing, floor-length silk dress in a rich sapphire blue, with eye-catching lace details along the neckline and sleeves. The dress had a vintage yet modern feel, and it felt perfect for the theme.

The photoshoot began in earnest, with Wooyoung directing each shot. “Alright, let’s start with some classic poses by the grand staircase. Think regal, timeless elegance.”

You positioned yourself as instructed, feeling the weight of the dress and the grandeur of the setting. Each click of the camera seemed to bring a new wave of confidence.

“Beautiful,” Wooyoung praised, adjusting the lighting. “Now, let’s move to the balcony. I want you to look out as if you’re lost in thought, dreaming of something wonderful. Kinda like if you were Cinderella daydreaming about her Prince Charming.”

The example he set was… unexpected, to say the least, but much to your surprise, it actually did its wonders and helped you immerse yourself in the theme. You followed his guidance, leaning slightly against the ornate railing and gazing out over the mansion’s lush gardens. The soft afternoon light cast a golden glow over everything, enhancing the ethereal quality of the shoot.

Hours passed as you moved from one location to another within the mansion, each scene more breathtaking than the last. You posed by antique mirrors, draped yourself elegantly on velvet sofas, and even walked through a hallway lined with vintage portraits.

Finally, the photoshoot came to an end. Wooyoung clapped his hands together, beaming. “That’s a wrap! You did an amazing job.”

You smiled, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. “Thank you. It was a wonderful experience.”

Seonghwa approached you, looking pleased. “You were fantastic. I’m really proud of you.” Just as you were about to respond, you saw Hongjoong entering the venue. Panic surged through you, and you quickly turned away, leaving behind a confused Seonghwa and heading straight for Wooyoung, who was busy checking his shots.

“Sorry to bother you, but is there a restroom around here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

He looked up in surprise, eventually nodding as he pointed towards a hallway. “Yep. Just down there, to the left.”

You quickly made your way towards the restroom, heart pounding. Once inside, you leaned your back against the wall, a hand on your chest as you sighed in relief. You didn’t know why you were so scared of crossing paths with Hongjoong. Maybe it was the guilt of not immediately returning his sketchbook to him the moment he introduced himself to you. Perhaps it was simply because you’ve always been a coward, just like when you were young.

Taking a moment to steady yourself, you walked towards the mirror to fix your appearance and wash your hands. Just as your hand held the doorknob to leave, you overheard two familiar voices coming from a corner nearby—Hongjoong and Seonghwa. You paused, listening intently.

Hongjoong let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “While I’m glad things seem to be turning out well for her, I still can’t shake off the thought of permanently losing my sketchbook. We already have the perfect model for the collection, but this predicament outweighs the greener side of the grass.”

Seonghwa tried to reassure him. “Maybe it’ll come by when you least expect it.” But even he sounded doubtful. Comforting Hongjoong through blatant lies was just as bad as adding fuel to the fire. Their voices grew more inaudible with each second until you could no longer hear them. Maybe they went back to the venue’s main hall.

You bit the inside of your cheek, making a mental note to ask Seonghwa for Hongjoong’s number before it was time to head back home. You couldn’t keep something with such a huge value in your hands much longer.

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you emerged from the restroom, walking back to the main hall while nervously fiddling with your fingers. You spotted Seonghwa sitting by the staircase next to Wooyoung, and as soon as he saw you, his face lit up.

He walked towards you with a welcoming smile. “Why’d you run off so suddenly earlier?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

You waved him off, hoping he wouldn’t pry further. “I just needed to go to the restroom,” you said, keeping your tone as casual as possible. Fortunately, he didn’t push for more details.

“Well, Hongjoong stopped by for a bit and left just a few seconds before you got back,” Seonghwa informed you, his eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You tried to act as if you weren’t already aware—as if Hongjoong wasn’t literally the reason you ran towards the restroom. You forced a nod, your expression neutral. “Oh? Did he say why he was here?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “He was actually looking for you, but something urgent came up, so he had to leave early.”

Thank God for that, you thought, your relief barely concealed. You nodded again, a desperate attempt to act casual, subtly biting the inside of your cheek. “Did he mention why he was looking for me?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “He didn’t get a chance to tell me. But don’t worry, he’ll most likely elaborate further once he’s done with whatever urgent business he’s handling.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, though your mind was still racing. At least you had a chance to return the sketchbook before the day was over. But what if that’s exactly why he was looking for you? No, no, that couldn’t be the case. You had to quit stressing yourself out.

Suddenly, you remembered your mental note to ask for Hongjoong’s number. You glanced at Seonghwa, trying to keep your voice steady. “Seonghwa, could I get Hongjoong’s number? I might need to discuss something with him... you know, business matters.”

Seonghwa smiled, not seeming to be suspicious. “Oh, sure thing. Give me a moment.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts before finding Hongjoong’s number and sharing it with you.

“Thank you,” you said, grateful that he didn’t ask further questions. Being a model on the fresh start of her journey needing to message the creative director of the brand she’s under was perfectly plausible.

With Hongjoong’s number saved in your phone, you felt a mixture of anxiety and determination. You couldn’t let this opportunity slip away, but you also couldn’t let fear control your actions. Now, you just need to find the right moment to return the sketchbook and hopefully clear the air.

Hours had passed, and the photoshoot concluded perfectly. Before you left the venue, Wooyoung approached you with a smile. “I might take about a short while to edit the shots I’ve taken. I’ll make sure you’re the first to see them, just in case there are a few photos you wouldn’t like to be published,” he said, catching you by surprise.

You nodded, genuinely touched. “Thank you, Wooyoung. I appreciate that.”

He grinned, his eyes turning into small crescents. “No problem. It’s important that you’re comfortable with everything.”

As you left, you reflected on how considerate everyone had been. It shattered your preconceived notions about the fashion industry. Prejudices can indeed be harmful, you mused.

Now, you found yourself at the park once more, nervously shaking your legs as the tips of your fingers hovered over the letters on your phone’s keyboard. You deeply contemplated what message to send Hongjoong. Every possible phrase ran through your mind, each one feeling inadequate or too forward. How were you going to construct a message asking him to come to the park because you had something important to talk about?

After what felt like an eternity, you finally settled on a message you deemed sufficient:

Hi, Hongjoong. Sorry for the late notice, but I was hoping we could meet at the park for a moment. There’s something important I need to discuss with you. Let me know if you’re available. Thank you.

For a moment, you could only stare at the send button, which seemed to glare back at you with an almost mocking intensity. Letting out a sigh, you closed your eyes shut the exact moment you hit the button, trying so hard to keep yourself calm. Okay, maybe you were being quite dramatic right now, but you’ve always had a thing for being an overthinker—so what’s the surprise now?

It took a couple of minutes until your phone buzzed with Hongjoong’s response.

I’ll be on my way in a bit.

You sent a quick message back, ensuring he knew you’d be patiently waiting. Then, deciding to avoid making yourself more nervous, you turned off your phone. Your eyes drifted to the sketchbook inside your bag, a contemplative gaze settling on your face.

Your mind began to spiral into a torrent of overthinking. What if this doesn’t go the way you’re hoping it will? What if this makes things awkward between you two? The sketchbook held his designs for Autumn Fashion Week. Losing it must have caused him immense stress. Would he even be able to trust you again after this? What if the consequences were more severe than you anticipated? Each scenario played out in vivid detail, heightening your anxiety with every passing second. Most of all, you worried about Hongjoong’s reaction. Would he be disappointed? Understanding? Furious?

As you sat there, these thoughts swirling uncontrollably, you began to realize just how significant this moment was. The weight of the sketchbook in your bag felt heavier with each passing minute, a tangible reminder of the impact your actions could have.

Just as your thoughts were about to spiral deeper into a vortex of anxiety, a familiar voice softly called your name from behind. You turned around sharply, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. There stood Hongjoong, his expression warm and slightly curious.

You immediately stood up from the bench, awkwardly fumbling with your hands, struggling to find the right way to greet him. At that moment, you realized how foolish your plan was. Here was the creative director of the brand you were now modeling for, and you had asked him to meet you at a local park? The idea seemed incredibly disrespectful in hindsight, and you cringed inwardly at your own lack of foresight.

Hongjoong seemed to notice the shift in your demeanor. His eyes softened, and as if he could read your mind, he laughed gently, attempting to put you at ease. “It’s all good,” he reassured you, his tone kind and understanding.

“I’m so sorry for asking you to come here at such an unexpected hour,” you apologized, your voice tinged with genuine regret and bashfulness. Truthfully, all you could wish for right now was for a lightning to magically strike exactly where you were currently standing. It would hurt less than having to endure the embarrassment you were currently facing.

“It’s alright, really,” he said, waving off your concern with a nonchalant gesture. “How about we take a seat, and you can tell me what you called me here for?”

You nodded, your heart still pounding in your chest. You sat back down on the bench, scooting to the side to give him ample space. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves, your fingers trembling slightly as you clasped them together.

“So,” Hongjoong began, his eyes never leaving your face, “what’s on your mind?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your words came out in a jumbled mess. “Well, you see, it’s just... I mean, I wanted to... there’s something important I...”

Hongjoong listened intently, his expression patient but slightly puzzled. He waited for you to continue, giving you the space you needed to gather your thoughts. He could tell you were avoiding the main topic, and his curiosity was piqued. After a moment of watching you struggle, he gently cut in, his voice soft and encouraging. “It’s okay. Just cut to the chase.”

You pursed your lips, feeling the anxiety tighten like a vice around your chest. With a shaky hand, you reached into your bag and pulled out the sketchbook, shoving it into his arms. Immediately, you stood up, your first instinct to run away. But Hongjoong quickly stood up too, catching your wrist in a gentle but firm grip and turning you back towards him.

The look in his eyes was unreadable, a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. Under his steady gaze, you felt a wave of shame and guilt wash over you. You began to ramble, the words spilling out uncontrollably.

“Look, I’m so, so sorry—I really didn’t want to keep it for so long, I just couldn’t find a way to return it to you because I was so scared my career would be jeopardized before it even started. I was afraid you’d be upset, and that’s completely valid because if I were you, I would be chasing myself around with a knife right now, and...”

Hongjoong let go of your wrist and laughed, a sound so unexpected that it made you fall silent. The tears that had been threatening to fall halted themselves, leaving you feeling both confused and relieved.

You looked at him with a puzzled expression. “... Why are you laughing?”

He smiled, still chuckling softly. “Upset? Not once was I ever upset the day I found out you had my sketchbook because I knew it was in good hands.”

This statement only deepened your confusion. “Huh? Sorry, what do you mean by that?”

He shifted lightly. “Do you remember the first casting audition you attended?” he asked, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. You nodded wordlessly, your mind racing to recall the details. “I knew my sketchbook was in your hands the moment I saw what you were wearing,” he explained, his tone matter-of-fact.

Then it hit you. The dress you had worn that day was inspired by one of his designs, a subtle homage to his work. “Is… is that why you approached me in the waiting room that day?” you asked, realization dawning on you.

“Yes, but I also wanted to see how you would react to me introducing myself,” he admitted, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I had a hunch you had no idea I was the owner of the sketchbook.”

You felt dumbfounded, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. “You knew all along? Why didn’t you confront me about it?”

He shrugged comfortably, his demeanor relaxed. “I knew I could trust you to return it eventually.” He looked down at the sketchbook now back in his hands, his expression one of satisfaction. “And I guess I was right, after all.”

“So… what’s going to happen to me now?” you asked, your voice small and uncertain, the weight of your fears hanging heavy right above your head, the rope holding it up a second close to snapping.

“What do you mean?” he replied, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

“Aren’t I going to get in trouble? It’s what I deserve, you know. Seonghwa told me about how much stress you’ve been having to endure because of your missing sketchbook.”

He waved you off, shaking his head with a reassuring smile. “You only would’ve gotten in trouble if you had chosen to leak my designs or didn’t come forward like you did now.”

There was a short pause as he reached into his shoulder bag. When you saw a tiny peek of what it was, your eyes immediately widened.

“So, now that that’s out of the way, I’m guessing this is yours, then?” he said, raising the object high enough for you to see.

Your journal.

You could only look at it in complete, utter shock, your eyes wide with surprise. He had your journal all along, too? But how come he had it with him now, at this very specific moment? Did he already know beforehand that you were the owner of it, too?

“How did you... how’d you know that belongs to me?” you asked, still dumbfoundedly staring at it as it remained in his hands.

He shrugged with a knowing smile. “Call it a hunch.”

You took it from his grasp, flipping through the pages just to make sure it was actually your journal. It was. “No, seriously, how did you know...?”

He paused, then admitted, “Well, may have read a single page. What I read was an entry about wanting to move to a new country to restart your life and turn over a new leaf. I remembered that the moment you told your story about your past to the casting directors during the auditions, and that’s when I put two and two together. I was just waiting for the right time to return it to you.”

“The right time as in the time I’d finally decide to return your sketchbook?”

“Precisely,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“So you knew my intention behind asking you to meet up tonight?” you asked, a mix of amazement and embarrassment flooding through you.

“I did. Call it a hunch—for real this time.”

You looked up at him, trying to process everything. “So... where do we go from here?”

He tilted his head slightly, a curious expression on his face. “What do you mean by that?”

You fiddled with the hem of the sweater you were wearing, not really sure how this night was meant to be concluded—another thing you forgot to consider, thanks to your constant overthinking. “You have your sketchbook, and I have my journal... I suppose we should call this a day, then?”

He chuckled softly. “You’re still tense, aren’t you?”

You sighed, feeling the tension in your shoulders that you had been trying to ignore. “I can’t help it.”

Hongjoong tried to lighten the mood with a playful tone. “You better be, because who knows if I might switch up on you last minute or not.”

But his attempt at humor backfired. You immediately began to worry, your words coming out in a frantic scurry. “Please don’t! I mean, I really didn’t mean to keep it for so long. I was just scared, and...”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” he quickly interjected, his smile turning sheepish. “That was probably not a good joke... Sorry about that.” Hongjoong then spoke up again, his tone more sincere. “Let’s see… Why don’t we stop by the cafe where this all started? Just to get your mind off your persisting worries?”

You hesitated, trying to turn his offer down. “Oh, I don’t want to take up more of your time than I already did. You’re probably busy...”

He shook his head, his expression earnest. “That’s not the case at all. I don’t mind. Really, I insist.” Seeing the genuine look in his eyes, you finally nodded, a small smile forming on your lips as you caved in.

As you both started walking, you felt some of the tension begin to ease. The sketchbook and journal were back with their rightful owners, and despite the initial awkwardness, the evening was starting to take a more positive turn. The park was quiet, the air filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of city life, creating a calming backdrop for your walk to the cafe.

Hongjoong led the way, his steps confident yet relaxed. “You know,” he began, glancing at you, “I’ve always believed that the right things find their way back to you at the right time. Looks like today was one of those days.”

You nodded, reflecting on his words. “Yeah, I suppose it was.”

You and Hongjoong eventually approached the cafe, the warm, inviting light spilling out onto the street through the large windows. The bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, and a comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air. The interior was cozy, with a few patrons scattered around, each immersed in their own little worlds. You both walked up to the counter, where a cheerful barista greeted you with a welcoming smile.

Hongjoong glanced at you, gesturing for you to go first. “What would you like?”

You scanned the menu briefly before deciding. “I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.”

The barista nodded and turned to Hongjoong. “And for you, sir?”

“I’ll take an Americano,” he replied with a friendly nod.

As the barista prepared your drinks, you and Hongjoong made small talk, the earlier tension steadily dissolving into a more relaxed and natural conversation. Once your drinks were ready, you carried them over to a small table by the window, where the soft evening light created a serene atmosphere.

Settling into your seats, Hongjoong took a sip of his coffee before turning his attention to you. “So, about that dress you wore at the audition. How did you make it? Because, as my memory serves me, it was a hundred percent identical to the design I made.”

You smiled, reminiscing about the creation process. “The landlord of the apartment I’m currently staying in helped me with making it. It was her way of thanking me for helping her with grocery shopping one day. She’s really talented with a sewing machine.”

Hongjoong’s eyes softened, and a warm smile spread across his face. “That’s really heartwarming. It’s wonderful how small acts of kindness can lead to such beautiful collaborations. It’s like the universe has a way of bringing the right people together at the right time.”

Touched by his words, you nodded. “The design itself was really beautiful and eye-catching. What was the inspiration behind it?”

Hongjoong’s expression shifted to a more somber tone as he gazed out the window, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. “They’re inspired by the dreams I have failed to reach.”

Intrigued by the depth of his statement, you leaned forward slightly. “Sorry, could you elaborate on that?”

He paused, as if carefully choosing his words, before responding with a poetic yet cryptic tone. “Sometimes, the dreams we chase slip through our fingers like grains of sand, leaving behind a haunting echo of what could have been. But in that echo, there’s still beauty, still inspiration.”

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight that spoke volumes. You could sense there was more to his story than he was letting on. “Is this dream of yours still up there, or has it already dissipated?”

Hongjoong sighed, a touch of uncertainty in his eyes. “To be honest, I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want it to be the latter.”

Sensing the mood deflating, you decided to steer the conversation towards lighter waters. “Tell me about Seonghwa and Wooyoung. Have you known them for a long time? The three of you seem really close.”

A smile tugged at Hongjoong’s lips, and he nodded appreciatively. “Yes, we’ve known each other since our youth. Seonghwa and I go way back. As for Wooyoung, we met him in college. He’s a year behind us, but it didn’t take long for us to become close friends.”

“How did the three of you meet?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled with fond memories. “Seonghwa and I have known each other since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the same schools. Wooyoung, on the other hand, we met him during his first year of college when we were in our second. He was this energetic, passionate guy who always had a camera in his hand. We quickly became friends, and our bond just grew stronger over time.”

He continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “Wooyoung had this knack for capturing moments, and he saw the world in a way that inspired us both. Seonghwa and I were drawn to his creativity, and he brought out the best in us. The three of us complemented each other perfectly, both in our personal lives and in our professional endeavors.”

Hongjoong turned the conversation towards you, his curiosity piqued. “What about you? Do you have any friends that you cherish as much as I do with Wooyoung and Seonghwa?”

You paused to think about it. The figures that appeared in your mind were the daughter of the diner owner you used to work for and another person whose friendship you were unsure about.

Clearing your throat, you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze with your own. “Yes, I do. She’s from Arcadia Bay, my hometown. Her name is Chloe—she’s someone I met through her mother, who owned the diner I used to work at before I got fired for always gobbling up both the leftovers and incorrect orders.”

Hongjoong’s laugh broke the story, and he immediately apologized, but you smiled, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I have to admit, it was a ridiculous way to get fired.” You continued, recounting your friendship with Chloe.

“She’s really cool. A bit of a bad influence, but she was one of the few reasons why I still consider my life in Arcadia Bay worth remembering. She was like those typical angsty teens you’d see in movies—the whole starter pack, even. You know, dyed hair, tattoos, alternative clothing style, sneaking into concerts of rock bands. She had every right to be like that, though. During my shift hours, she’d always keep me company by entertaining me with life stories she definitely shouldn’t have been going through at her age back then. We were sixteen, but that’s usually the rebellious time period for teenagers, so I guess it checks out.”

Hongjoong listened intently to every word, his focus never wavering. You could tell he was genuinely interested in what you were sharing. His attention made you feel valued, as if your stories were as important to him as his own.

“Sounds like your typical high school friendship,” he mused with a smile. “Can’t say it wasn’t the same case for me and Seonghwa, honestly.”

“Hold on, you had a rebellious teen phase?” you asked, leaning forward, genuinely curious.

Hongjoong’s expression grew more animated as he recalled his rebellious past, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and nostalgia. “Oh, you have no idea. Seonghwa and I were quite the troublemakers back then. We were involved in some pretty intense stuff—definitely not your average teenage rebellion, but I’m not too proud of that fact.”

You leaned in, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Like what?” You had to admit, finding out that the man who always seemed to be so poised used to be a reckless teenager was jarring.

He chuckled, a hint of daring in his voice. “Well, for starters, we were heavily into the underground party scene. I’m talking about secret raves in abandoned warehouses and hidden clubs where the music was so loud, you could barely hear yourself think. The kind of places where the lights were always dim, and you had to know someone to get in.”

You listened intently, picturing the vibrant, chaotic scenes he described. “That sounds wild.” It was the type of life you’ll never be able to picture yourself experiencing—the very first proof of this being always turning down Chloe’s invites to parties taking place in a shady venue. It seemed fun, that’s for sure, but you just weren’t really built for it.

“Oh, it was,” Hongjoong agreed, his smile widening. “We were also really into street racing. Seonghwa had this old, souped-up car that he’d been working on for months. We’d drive it through the city streets, racing against anyone who dared to challenge us. Sometimes, we’d even have to make a quick getaway when the police showed up.”

His words painted a vivid picture of adrenaline-fueled nights and high-stakes races. “The police? That must have been thrilling.”

“It was,” he said, his gaze distant as if replaying the scenes in his mind. “And then there were the run-ins with the law. We were caught a few times, of course. Nothing too serious, but we had our share of close calls. There was this one time we were cornered by the cops after a particularly wild race, and we had to evade them through the back alleys of the city. It was like something out of a movie.”

Your eyes widened, impressed by the intensity of his teenage years. “Didn’t that ever scare you?”

He shrugged, a nonchalant smile on his face. “Not really. At the time, it felt like living on the edge was the only way to really feel alive. It was exhilarating, but we always managed to stay one step ahead. Those experiences made us who we are today, and while I don’t miss the chaos, I look back on it with a certain fondness.”

“You seem so different now,” you observed, noting the contrast between his past and present demeanor.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong agreed, his smile softening. “I guess I’ve changed quite a bit. Those days taught me a lot, but I also realized that I needed to channel that energy into something more constructive. That’s how I ended up finding my path in fashion designing. It was like a transformation from chaos to creativity. I still have a taste for adventure, but I prefer it now in the form of pushing boundaries in design rather than… dodging the cops.”

You laughed, though it was soon followed by an understanding nod, taking in the depth of his transformation. “It sounds like those years shaped you a lot. What was Seonghwa like during all this?”

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up as he spoke about his friend. “Seonghwa was my partner in crime, quite literally. He was just as reckless and adventurous as I was. We were inseparable back then. He had a natural knack for getting us into the thick of things—whether it was by pushing our luck with illegal street races or sneaking into the most exclusive underground parties.”

You could sense the warmth in Hongjoong’s tone as he spoke of Seonghwa. “And did he ever get tired of all the chaos?”

“No,” Hongjoong laughed, shaking his head. “If anything, he thrived on it. We both did. But as we grew older, we started to see the value in channeling that rebellious spirit into something more sustainable. We realized that we could use our drive and creativity in more productive ways.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze reflecting a mixture of nostalgia and contentment. “It’s funny, really. What once was all about defying norms and breaking rules became a passion for creating something new and innovative. I think it’s one of the reasons why Seonghwa and I get along so well. We understand each other’s journey from foolish teens to responsible adults.”

“Do you ever miss those days?” you asked, curious if he ever longed for the simpler times.

Hongjoong’s expression softened. “Sometimes. Life was simpler back then. No major responsibilities, just living in the moment. But I also appreciate where I am now. Those experiences shaped who I am today, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

You nodded in agreement, understanding his sentiment. “It’s amazing how those memories stay with us and influence who we become.”

He smiled warmly at you. “Right. And it’s the people we meet along the way that make those memories special. Like Chloe for you.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, thinking about your old friend. “Chloe was definitely one of those people. She made my time in Arcadia Bay memorable, despite everything.”

Hongjoong’s eyes held a hint of admiration as he looked at you. “It sounds like you had a real connection with her. Those kinds of friendships are rare and valuable.”

“They are,” you agreed, feeling a sense of nostalgia. “I’m grateful for those times, even if they’re in the past now.”

You leaned back in your chair, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. “You know, it feels a little weird sharing these stories with you. Not that it makes me uncomfortable, it’s just… I quite literally work under you. I can’t help but feel worried that I’m crossing a boundary by talking about these things.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened as he leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours. “I understand why you might feel that way, but you’re not crossing any boundaries. Outside of work and the industry, I’m not a creative director. I’m just a normal human, just like you. So, it’s alright to talk to me about these things.”

You smiled, feeling a bit more reassured. “It might take a while for me to get used to talking to you comfortably without feeling guilty right after, though.” You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck.

He nodded, his smile understanding. “That’s completely understandable. Take your time.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and minutes later, you both decided to call it a night. Hongjoong stood up, lending his hand to help you out of your seat.

“Let me take you home,” he offered. While your initial thought was to turn him down, you knew deep inside you had a huge fear of walking alone late at night, so all you could do was accept his offer with a wordless nod of gratitude.

As you walked together towards your apartment, Hongjoong began to indulge you in small talk. “So, tell me more about your landlord.”

You smiled, thinking of Madame Dupont. “She’s always been very kind to me ever since I first moved in. She’s a lovely woman. She has a beautiful garden at the apartment, and back when I was still on my job hunt, I’d see her early in the morning, watering her plants and flowers. I think it’s a nice hobby to have.”

Hongjoong nodded, appreciating the sentiment. “Gardening does sound like a peaceful hobby. Have you ever thought about making your own garden?”

“I actually have, quite a few times already. But I can barely even take care of myself, so taking care of something else—a whole bunch of them at that—doesn’t really seem like a good idea on my behalf,” you joked, and both of you shared a laugh.

The laughter faded, and you shifted the conversation. “What about you? Do you have a dream hobby you wish to indulge in one day?”

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I’ve actually been wanting to learn how to play the guitar—an electric one specifically. But I’m just currently too busy with my work to sneak in a hobby.”

You decided to test the waters with a light-hearted joke. “That hobby is long overdue. You should’ve thought of it back when you were in your angsty teen phase.” Was that alright to say? Was it too far?

Much to your relief, Hongjoong laughed heartily. “You’re right. It would’ve fit perfectly with who I was back then.”

When you both finally reached your apartment building, you let out a small hum of surprise as a familiar figure darted towards you—a mischievous little feline known all too well to you.

“Pompidou?” you called out softly, crouching down as the cat stopped right in front of you, looking up with wide, curious eyes. You bent your knees, scooping it up into your arms with a gentle smile, feeling the comforting weight and warmth of the small creature.

Hongjoong watched this interaction with a fond smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Is that your cat?” he asked, stepping a little closer to get a better look.

You shook your head, still smiling as you stroked Pompidou’s soft fur. “No, he belongs to a fellow tenant. Pompidou just prefers to stay outdoors more. He’s quite the adventurous little guy.”

Intrigued, Hongjoong reached out to rub the cat’s head. “Be careful, he might—” You started to warn him about Pompidou’s unpredictable nature, but to your surprise, the cat began nuzzling its head against Hongjoong’s palm, purring contentedly.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, glancing up at Hongjoong. The proximity between your faces made your heart skip a beat, and you quickly looked back down at Pompidou, feeling a bit flustered. Clearing your throat to regain composure, you said, “It likes you.”

Hongjoong continued to rub Pompidou’s head, his touch gentle and kind. “Does it usually not accept physical touch from people who aren’t its owner?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You nodded. “You’re right. Sometimes, Pompidou doesn’t even like being touched by its owner. Poor Monsieur Frank always has to chase him around. It’s quite a sight.”

This made Hongjoong chuckle, a warm sound that resonated in the quiet evening. “But it likes you?”

You shrugged, still a bit puzzled by the cat’s behavior. “I honestly have no idea why that’s the case. Maybe he senses something.”

Hongjoong’s eyes softened as he watched the cat nuzzle against you. “I remember reading an article about animals and their behavioral traits, and it said that when a cat is naturally drawn to you, it means you have a kind soul and they can sense it.”

The thought of Pompidou seeing your soul as something pure warmed your heart, making you embrace the cat a little tighter. You glanced at Hongjoong, touched by his words. “Maybe that’s why it likes you a lot,” he mused quietly, almost as if speaking to himself.

As you cradled Pompidou in your arms like a baby, Hongjoong took a step back, reaching into his bag to retrieve his phone. He quickly snapped a candid photo of you with the cat, the moment capturing the tender interaction between you and Pompidou. Once the photo was taken, he discreetly put his phone back in his bag.

Only then did you turn your attention back to him, smiling warmly. “Thank you for spending the evening with me and walking me home. It was really nice. And… I’m still so sorry about not choosing to return the sketchbook sooner.”

Hongjoong laughed softly, shaking his head. “No need to thank me. I enjoyed it too. And don’t worry about the sketchbook. It’s really not a problem.”

You waved goodbye, watching as he safely crossed the road before finally heading inside. Setting Pompidou down gently on the floor, you bid the cat farewell too before heading up to your apartment. Once inside, you heaved a soft sigh of relief, feeling the familiar comfort of your home envelop you after a long day. Stretching your arms, you plopped yourself on the floor, leaning back against the couch to relax.

A message notification from Hongjoong pinged on your phone, showing a photo attachment. Opening it with initial confusion, you smiled widely as you saw a candid photo of you holding Pompidou in your arms. The image captured the warmth of the moment perfectly. You quickly reacted to the photo with a heart, typing out a response.

How come I didn’t notice you taking this photo?

Hongjoong’s reply then came swiftly, nearly a couple seconds right after you sent yours.

When you have a cat in your arms, it’s quite impossible to focus on everything that’s happening around you.

You laughed at his message, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you. You thanked him for today once more before shutting your phone and calling it a day—a well-spent one, at that.

—

It still felt surreal to everyone except for Hongjoong that the sketchbook was finally back in his hands, removing the key obstacle that had been troubling him for a while. It had been three days since he shared the news with Seonghwa and Wooyoung, and despite the word spreading quickly, people still found it hard to believe that it had resurfaced just when everyone least expected it. Relief was the dominant sentiment among the team, but Seonghwa and Wooyoung couldn’t shake their curiosity about how, when, and where Hongjoong found the sketchbook. This mystery led them to their usual spot for private conversations about Hongjoong: Seonghwa’s office.

Seonghwa sat at his desk, diligently working through paperwork, while Wooyoung sprawled on the office couch, staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful frown.

“I just don’t get why he’d be so cryptic about it,” Wooyoung said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a mix of confusion and frustration.

Seonghwa shrugged without looking up from his papers. “He’s always had a knack for being secretive. But in this situation, it doesn’t seem quite sensible.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Wooyoung almost yelled, sitting up abruptly. Seonghwa glanced at him, surprised by his outburst. “Oops. But yeah, it’s not like he has to share every detail with us, but why wouldn’t he, you know?”

“I’m as lost as you are,” Seonghwa replied with a sigh, flipping to the next page of his paperwork. “Maybe he’ll come around eventually. For now, we should just be glad he’s got it back. You know how much it means to him.”

Wooyoung nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do. It means as much to him as a worn-out bunny plush means to a child in a horror movie.”

Seonghwa chuckled at the comparison. “Nice observation.”

“You think he’s gonna magically appear anytime soon now?” Wooyoung asked suddenly, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “He always seems to show up exactly when we’re talking about him.”

“You think he’ll show up if you say his name three times?” Seonghwa asked, playing along with Wooyoung’s musings.

“What, like Bloody Mary?”

“I was leaning towards Beetlejuice, but that fits too,” Seonghwa responded with a contemplative look.

Wooyoung grinned. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetle—”

At that exact moment, the door to Seonghwa’s office swung open, and Hongjoong walked in. “Speak of the devil,” Seonghwa said, unable to hide his amusement as he looked at Wooyoung, who appeared mortified.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, clearly aware of their conversation. “Talking about me again?”

Wooyoung tried to play it cool. “Oh, I was actually summoning you right before you came in.”

Hongjoong gave him a deadpan expression. “I heard you chanting Beetlejuice’s name three times before entering.”

Feigning innocence, Wooyoung shrugged. “Pure coincidence.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and brushed him off, turning his attention to Seonghwa. “Anyway, we need to discuss the plans for Fashion Week now that the sketchbook is back. Can we go over the details?”

Seonghwa nodded, clearing his desk to make space for the discussion. He pulled out a large binder filled with notes, sketches, and timelines. “Of course. We have a lot to cover.”

Hongjoong settled into the chair across from Seonghwa, pulling out his own notes. “I’ve been thinking about our initial concept for the collection. Now that we have the sketches back, I want to make sure we stay true to the original vision.”

Seonghwa flipped through the binder, stopping at a section filled with sketches and fabric swatches. “I agree. The original vision was strong, but we need to ensure every piece aligns perfectly with it. Let’s start with the color palette.”

Hongjoong nodded, leaning forward. “I’m thinking we stick with the bold, contrasting colors. It’s a statement collection, and the colors need to reflect that. The deep reds, midnight blues, and metallic accents should remain as the primary focus.”

Seonghwa made notes as Hongjoong spoke, occasionally nodding in agreement. “And the fabrics? Are we still going with the mix of leather and silk?”

“We are,” Hongjoong confirmed. “The juxtaposition of the tough and the delicate is what gives the collection its edge. The leather jackets with silk linings, the silk dresses with leather accents—it all needs to be cohesive.”

Wooyoung, now sitting up properly, watched the discussion unfold with interest. “What about the accessories? Are we doing anything special with those?”

Hongjoong glanced at Wooyoung, then back at Seonghwa. “I was thinking about incorporating some custom jewelry pieces. Something that complements the outfits but stands out on its own. Maybe some statement necklaces and rings?”

Seonghwa jotted down the ideas, flipping to another page in the binder. “And the runway show? Do we have a clear vision for the presentation?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong said firmly. "The runway needs to reflect the collection’s theme. I’m envisioning a stark, industrial setting with dramatic lighting. The music should be intense, something that amplifies the mood we’re going for.”

Seonghwa nodded, his pen moving quickly across the paper. “Sounds perfect. We’ll need to coordinate with the production team to make sure everything aligns.”

Wooyoung, still lounging on the couch, suddenly broke the silence with a thoughtful question. “Would you ever tell us about how you got your sketchbook back someday? Like, you know, maybe after Fashion Week?”

Seonghwa, leaning back in his chair and stretching, hummed in agreement. “While I’m not usually one to pry, I have to admit I’m a little curious about that as well.”

Hongjoong simply smiled, leaning back in his seat. “It’s up to the answer if it wants to come forward. If not, I’m afraid all you can do is accept things as they are.”

Wooyoung frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the cryptic response. “Why are you always so mysterious whenever there’s something you don’t want to tell us about? You sound like a riddler.”

Hongjoong laughed, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Maybe I am,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He then shifted the conversation, clearly intent on steering it away from the sketchbook’s return. “Anyway, how did the recent photoshoot at that old Parisian venue go? I couldn’t stick around long because of work.”

Wooyoung’s expression brightened at the change of topic. “Oh, it went really well! She was fantastic. She had this natural ease in front of the camera that made everything flow smoothly. The venue was perfect too, with its rustic charm and vintage vibes. It really brought out the best in the shoot.”

Seonghwa nodded, visibly pleased with the feedback. “I’ve seen some of the raw shots. They’re set to be uploaded on our social media platforms tomorrow. Are the chosen photos finalized?”

Wooyoung leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. “Yes, they are. I sent the file to you last night, actually. I left it up to her to choose which ones she wanted to be uploaded and which ones she didn’t. She has a good eye for these things.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s a lot of trust to put in her.”

Wooyoung shrugged. “She chose the best shots—she knows her stuff, that’s for sure. Plus, she’s the one in the photos. It only makes sense for her to have a say in how she’s presented.”

Seonghwa agreed, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on his desk. “I think it’s a good call. It’s important that she feels comfortable with what’s being shared. It builds trust and respect, which is essential in this industry.”

Hongjoong nodded, appreciating their insights. “I’m glad to hear it went well. It’s good to know we’re on the right track.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “I agree. And I have to say, she really brought her A-game. I think the location also played a huge role. There’s something about that old Parisian charm that adds a layer of authenticity and nostalgia to the photos. It’s like we’re capturing a piece of history.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his interest piqued. “I’d love to see the final selections. Can we go through them now?”

Seonghwa reached for his laptop, quickly pulling up the folder with the chosen photos. He positioned the screen so all three of them could see. “Here are the ones she decided on.”

They spent the next few minutes reviewing each photo, discussing the angles, the lighting, and the overall composition.

“This one,” Hongjoong pointed to a shot where you were caught in a candid moment of laughter. “It feels so genuine and warm. It’s the kind of photo that draws people in.”

Wooyoung nodded. “That’s exactly why she chose it. It’s authentic. It shows her personality in a way that’s relatable and endearing.”

Seonghwa scrolled to another photo, this one a more posed shot with you looking pensively out of a window. “And this one has a different kind of impact. It’s introspective and thoughtful. It adds depth to the collection.”

Hongjoong agreed, his eyes lingering on the image. “It’s a good balance. We need both the candid and the posed shots to tell a complete story.”

Wooyoung chimed in, “She really knows how to work the camera. Even in the posed shots, there’s this natural grace about her that just comes through.”

Hongjoong added, “The lighting in this one is perfect. It highlights her features without being too harsh. It’s soft, yet striking. And the backdrop of the Parisian venue really adds a timeless quality to the photos. It’s like we’re capturing a moment in time, a blend of the past and present.”

Wooyoung leaned back on the couch, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You know, while I think the backdrop and the angles definitely helped, I believe it was her visuals that completed the whole thing. There’s just something about the way she carries herself.”

Seonghwa nodded, glancing at the photos on the laptop screen. “I agree. Even when I first saw her on the other side of the road, she looked like she was part of some sort of painting. There’s an almost ethereal quality to her presence.”

Hongjoong, who had been lost in thought, found himself contemplating the same thing. There was something about you, not just your looks but your overall vibe, that felt different to him. It wasn’t just your physical appearance; it was the way you composed yourself, the quiet confidence you exude. It was as if you were in a world of your own, and yet fully present in the moment. He couldn’t quite place it, but it intrigued him deeply.

Snapping his fingers in front of Hongjoong’s face, Wooyoung dragged him out of his reverie. “Hey, earth to Hongjoong. You okay?”

Hongjoong blinked, realizing he had been staring off into space. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. Were you saying something?”

Wooyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I was just saying there’s something about her charisma that sets her apart from every other model I’ve worked with. Don’t you agree? It’s like she has this unique energy that just draws people in.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, his mind still partially occupied by his earlier thoughts. “Yeah... yeah, I agree. There’s definitely something special about her. It’s not just about looks. It’s more than that.”

Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “I think It’s her presence. She has this natural grace and ease that’s rare. It’s like she belongs in front of the camera, but she’s not trying too hard. It’s effortless.”

Wooyoung smiled, his thoughts aligning with Seonghwa’s words. “You get it. It’s like she’s not performing, she’s just being herself. And that authenticity shines through in every shot.”

Hongjoong nodded. “That’s what makes her perfect for our brand. She embodies the kind of genuine beauty and charisma we want to showcase. It’s refreshing to work with someone who doesn’t rely on pretense.” He glanced at the photos once more, feeling a sense of satisfaction and excitement. “We’re lucky to have her on board.”

Seonghwa nodded, closing the laptop. “Agreed. And with Fashion Week coming up, we need all the positive energy we can get. This is a great start.”

Wooyoung stretched, a content smile on his face. “I can’t wait to see the reaction when these photos go live. I have a feeling they’re going to be a hit.”

As the conversation shifted to the finer details of the upcoming Fashion Week, the room buzzed with excitement and determination. They knew they were on the brink of something great, and they were ready to give it their all.

Yet, amidst all the planning and strategizing, Hongjoong couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. There was something about your presence that stayed with him, a quiet, unspoken connection that he couldn’t quite define. He knew there was more to you than met the eye, and he found himself eager to discover what that was.

🪞 — lividstar.

[tinybeetiny]

Aren’t You Embarrassed?: Jongho Ending

->Staring: NonIdol!JonghoXAfab!Reader

->Genre: Fluff

->CW: I have no idea my brain isn't working....

Previous Part | Seonghwa’s Ending

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Jongho waited patiently by the fountain, his hands nervously twisting a small pebble between his fingers. Five minutes passed, then ten, and still you hadn’t appeared. His heart pounded harder with every passing second until finally, he spotted you rushing towards him, cheeks flushed and breath uneven.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a little out of breath as you sat down at the nearby table. “I got caught up with my bio professor, and then Eunchae had an emergency—well, it wasn’t really an emergency, she just needed me to help her with her notes.” You chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I’m just going on and on, aren’t I?”

Jongho smiled softly. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.”

An awkward silence stretched between you both, the sounds of the campus fountain bubbling in the background. After a moment, Jongho cleared his throat. “So... how have you been?”

You took a deep breath, steadying your voice despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “I’ve been okay, I guess. Finals are killing me, so it’s mostly just been me and the library. You?”

“Same here. Way too many late nights studying,” Jongho replied with a wry grin. “But hey, we survived this far, right?”

You let out a small laugh, but it quickly faded as the weight of the moment settled back in. “Jongho... I want to say something. About everything.”

He leaned forward, attentive. “I’m listening.”

You swallowed hard. “I know I hurt you — more than I probably realize. I thought I was over him. I really did. But somehow, Seonghwa found a way to manipulate his way back in, just when things were starting to get real between us. We were finally building something — something I wanted to believe in — and then everything got messy again. And I dragged you into all that chaos when you didn’t deserve it.”

Jongho’s eyes softened as he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “Hey, you don’t have to explain. I get it. First love can mess with your head, and that kind of heartbreak… It’s not something you just snap out of. I was just hurt, we had talked about making things more serious, and then right after, I find you in... that situation. The way I responded wasn't the best either.

You looked down at your intertwined fingers, warmth spreading through you from his touch. “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready then. I’m sorry for hurting you, I really am.”

Jongho smiled, a quiet, reassuring smile. “I forgive you. I want to start over" "Me too"

Sitting beside him by the fountain, you felt a gentle hope stirring inside. Jongho’s presence was steady, grounding — something real and honest you’d longed for. The chaos of the past still lingered, but for the first time, you believed you could leave it behind.

A few months later, after you and Jongho had made things official, he decided to leave the fraternity. The constant drama and toxicity no longer fit the life he wanted — especially now, with you by his side. He wanted to build something better, healthier, and more meaningful. It was a fresh start, for both of you.

That afternoon by the fountain, with Jongho’s hand in yours, you realized this was just the beginning. Together, you could face whatever came next — no more doubts, no more confusion. Just two hearts learning to trust again.

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoonshiiu @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

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[m0r1bund]

I know most artists are probably annoyed to hell and back with art advice questions…

No idea on your stance so I’ll ask

How do you do format your backgrounds?? Like the perspective, the empty space versus detail, what shape to make the canvas, all that stuff, idk.

I can imagine detailed stuff in my head but in practice I flounder to even begin to put it to paper so is there some sort of method to the madness?

Lastly, do you think it’s a good idea to start by drawing over real life images as a way to learn?

That’s all, thank you

Hi, sorry this took a while. No worries about asking, I’ve been there and I think we sometimes underestimate how much people like to feel helpful and to talk about their process. I have an awful memory, so it’s hard for me to retrace my steps sometimes, but I’ll try!

I remember being in a similar place where my mind’s eye was far ahead of my technical skill. This still happens, I don’t think it ever really goes away, I just remember it feeling especially pronounced and frustrating when I was younger.

context: I used to be really frustrated with my inability to finish or even start large, meticulously detailed pieces, especially landscapes and environmental pieces. This changed as my technical skill started to catch up with my mind’s eye, and I could execute things faster and faster, before my brain would arbitrarily decide a piece was “done.” I’ve had this lifelong tension between trying to become a faster artist so that I can strike while the iron is hot, while also accepting that my brain is wired a certain way, I don’t have to make myself suffer by working against my own brain, and it’s OK to make slow art. for all the grief it gives me, the ADHD hyperfocus / state of flow is part of the process and I do genuinely love it.

So with that in mind, here’s some pointers that I’ve personally found useful.

done > perfect, started > not started, always and forever. Lower the bar as much as you need to. I think this can be rough for those who are less motivated by the process and more by communicating something as it exists in their head. Unfortunately I am learning this lesson over and over, that a piece simply will not happen unless I make it feasible for myself. Can it be done faster and shittier? Can you settle for getting one or two things “right” and letting the rest turn out how it may?  

Taking up photography, studying photographers, and yes, tracing / photobashing / painting over photos (with appropriate permission.) Sometimes it’s more intuitive to find the composition than it is to make it from scratch. I’m lucky to live in the place that I draw, so it takes less guess-work to translate it to my art, but I also just think it’s fun to cultivate an eye for composition using the world around you.   I think creating your own references also teaches you things that studying curated art will not. You interacted with the space in-person, so you have valuable insight into how the space feels and the relationship between objects that you can’t glean just from a picture. It’s also got the beauty of the amateur’s eye. Contrast won’t be perfectly balanced, you’ll get to work with weird color combos under weirder lighting, things won’t be massed very intentionally, etc. What’s interesting to you about the subject is ultimately unique to you, and you get to bring that out.   Video game photography is another fun way of studying someone else’s work. Virtual landscapes are intentionally composed, down to the massing/lighting/visual clutter, so in a competently-designed environment it’s easier to find picturesque vistas or neat places to stage your subject. More fun, maybe less frustrating than exploring an environment that isn’t similar to one you want to depict.   I like sandbox games for DIY scene-setting too. Staging stuff in blender, making rough clay models, whatever you need to do to feel out the space.  

Ditto the above for studying other mediums that you enjoy. I feel like it’s glaringly obvious when I want something to be a 10-part animated series or, like, a tapestry, because that’s just where I go to when I’m pulling from my mental library.   Maybe part of why I gravitated to film and animation is because you can see changes in composition, focus, perspective, etc. happening in real time, so it’s easier to notice them, and to reflect on how they change the meaning of the scene.  

Leveraging your limits. Limited palette, limited time, limited scope, whatever. Easier to play with values when you’re working in black and white than when you add color to the mix. And hey, what can you uniquely do when you’re working under certain limits that you can’t do if you had free reign of a blank canvas? Pixel art, polychrome pottery, noir… The limits of a form make it memorable, or however that saying goes.  

Massing detail and polish around the focal point of the piece. I don’t think I’m very intentional about this with my finished work, I usually play with contrast or negative space to bring attention to things. but I often do this with my quick-and-dirty art like Basedt and Threadbare. I polish the bare minimum to communicate what I need to, and then leave the rest to imagination.   like anything else it’s just another tool in your toolbox, not as useful to those with very detailed work that choose to guide the eye in other ways.  

Thinking of the environment as its own character(s). Some of us get into art because we’re having fun drawing our favorite characters or our OCs, so backgrounds are just that--- backgrounds, scene-setting, all secondary to the main event, not as interesting or exciting to draw. I am personally trying to get rid of the mental boundary between subject and environment, because that’s more in line with how I feel about worldbuilding and life in general. They’re inseparable, they feed into one another, and it does me better to think about them holistically.   Corollary to that: Environments can be fun! A lot of people think of them as drudgery, but I don’t think you have to self-flagellate doing a hundred still-life master studies if that’s not the most efficient way for you to learn. We can and should do difficult things, but I don’t know, I think you can trick yourself into getting excited about drawing cars or buildings or rocks. For me, it’s exciting to explore my headworlds through the eyes of the fake people who live in my head. I guess having that touchstone of something that’s familiar alongside something that’s unfamiliar makes it more fun. When the switch finally flipped, it was really rewarding to realize I was scribbling landscapes as the “main event,” and the inclusion of a character was a last-minute thing if it happened at all. It can be fun! It doesn’t have to suck! But it takes time.  

OK, I think that’s all I got right now. As usual, glean what’s useful to you and forget the rest. There are others who can speak more competently about technical stuff than I can, and I’m sure I’m overlooking something obvious. this is just what sticks with me, personally.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 20

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: no warnings

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As the reality of making it on Broadway sets in I dedicate myself to self-improvement. I go for lengthy walks or jogs daily either before or after work depending on my shift. I call or text Jensen whenever we can, and decide to give a relationship with him a real shot. 

But, as the week goes on and he prepares to go back to Vancouver to start filming and I busy myself with night rehearsals, work at the cafe, and prep work for my classes, all while attempting to maintain a healthy sleep schedule. My contact with Jensen eventually drops back to sporadic text messages and a range of missed calls on either side. The one thing keeping me from a major meltdown is knowing my best friend will be back Sunday and I’ve already got a coffee date planned for Monday morning.

When I finally lay in bed on Saturday night, getting some much needed relaxation I scroll through my social media feed. Thanks to Jensen’s surprise stunt at the wedding and then his run-in at the barbecue joint, his face is all over my feed. I scroll through the lists of speculations about a secret girlfriend or project in New York. The adrenaline and secrecy makes me smile, but at the same time I’m terrified of the truth coming out before I’m ready. I send a few of the articles to Jensen. Minutes later he’s calling. As I answer I can hear music and other voices in the background and I instantly feel guilty for disrupting his night. 

“Hey Darlin’. Relax. I know about the posts. That’s one of the things my agent called about the other day. I’m handling it.”

“I’m sorry, did I disturb your night? You sound like you’re out. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“I just haven’t had a chance to bring it up, but I’m here now. It doesn’t matter where else I am. You need me, so I’m here. Take a deep breath for me.”

I throw my head back on my pillow and take a deep breath, “There’s no way you’re real…”

“It makes me disappointed in my gender that you think that. It means your standards are low.”

“You don’t exactly get high standards when you’ve dated the people I have…But I really don’t want to talk or think about them. What’s your plan?”

“To treat you like my queen. Prove to you that you deserve the world and that you’re my number one.”

“I uh…I meant about the rumours…But that sounds amazing. It’s not gonna be easy, but I’m rooting for you.”

I hear another voice call out on the other end of the line, “Hey Jensen, go easy on my top shelf whiskey! And get back in here!” I figure it’s just someone else at the party or bar or wherever he is.

“I’m comin’!” He calls out before lowing his voice again, “I promise I’m gonna handle it all, so you can just focus on becoming the star I know you are.”

“Thanks. Sounds like your friends are missing you. You should get back.”

“Only if you’re sure you’re okay? No brisket?”

“No brisket, I’m okay now. I should get some sleep anyway.”

“Alright, Darlin’. Sweet dreams.”

I hang up and snuggle into my bed. 

After a long few hours in the cafe, I sit back at the counter in my apartment infront of my laptop. I fill out the digital forms to drop back to part-time study. I figure with getting fit, rehearsals, work and my new, budding relationship I just don’t have the time or mental capacity for the extra unnecessary stress and workload. And last night just confirmed in my mind that I need to focus on my mental health and wellbeing. Feeling a little disappointed but also relieved, I submit the forms and then focus on the required reading for the acting classes. 

After an hour and a half my eyes are straining and my stomach is growling, I shut my laptop and walk around the island bench to find something to eat. As I make a sandwich I keep glancing over at my face-down phone As I sit down to eat I quickly flip it over and slide up for notifications. I notice a missed call from Stella. I quickly call her back, excited to hear from her after what feels like the longest week ever. 

“Hey, Bestie! How’s married life?”

“Amazing! I’ve had the best week ever! I can’t wait to tell you everything tomorrow!”

“Abridged, please. I need a PG version, M at your worst. You can leave out the X-rated stuff, which I know there would have been plenty of.”

“That takes out 90 per cent of my week! Nah, you know what Nick’s like, we did plenty of PG-rated activities.”

“Speaking of Nick, shouldn’t you guys be enjoying your last afternoon and night before the official end of your honeymoon?”

“You would think…But Mr. Reality-check got back to reality the second we touched down. He’s busy checking mail and paying bills and then onto meal prep. I guess it’s good one of us wants to do that…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know who I married. It’s sweet really, cause I know he’s only doing it to make the transition easier for both of us, and he knows I’ve been dying to hear your goss!”

“We agreed to talk about everything tomorrow…” I say trying to deflect as I start to pace.

“Yeah, but I’m only gonna get an hour for lunch and that includes travel time to and from the cafe. And I need more than the 45-ish minutes that we’re gonna have left. So, tell me about you and Mr Tall and Sexy.”

“There’s honestly not much to tell…We are a maybe something…a far-fetched possibility…”

“There’s a story there…You need me to come over?”

“No! No…You need to be at home with your husband. In other news! Grease? The audition YOU signed me up for…”

“No way! You got it? Who? Sandy? Frenchy?”

“Understudy…and…Female Student number three.”

“Well, you’re gonna be the best damn Female Student number three to ever bless that stage!”

“That’s the plan, but also, chances are over the six week run I’ll get at least one matinee show as the lead.”

“When that happens, I’ll be in the front row.”

“I know you will. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you got a part. I was worried I was gonna have to get you the junior HR position…”

“Broadway is where I want to be. I’m willing to work for it. It’s my first role and it’s a great position. No one lands the lead as their first role…except for probably Jensen Ackles,” I add under my breath.

“What’d he do? You always wear the blame but it’s always the guys in your life taking advantage, so what did HE do?”

“Nothing…I’ve got so much work to do before classes start this week, and I’ve got rehearsals most nights.”

“Hey, I’m your best friend. You can talk to me.”

“I’ve just got a lot to do. I’m thrilled that you had an amazing honeymoon and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. But go enjoy your night with your husband…”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I know. Enjoy your night.”

“I plan to. Don’t get too in your head about whatever’s going on.”

I sigh and hang up. As I try my best to refocus on the text about tone and enunciation, my mind keeps wandering back to the night before and the endless rumors that I’m caught in the middle of.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

@speakinvain, @deans-baby-momma, @1967winchesterimpala

[cruesuffix]

New Mick Interview

As per my last ask on this topic, i’ve now got a bit of proof. decided to just translate the whole thing just because. I’m sorry if anything sounds clunky at parts, I tried my best to get this through a translator and it might sound very strange or just not the best translation of certain parts.

mötley crüe series part 4

Mick Mars - guitarist and rebel!

Mick Mars, guitarist in Mötley Crüe, is the group's big rebel. He looks fierce on stage with his wild eyes and jet-black hair, but deep down he's a nice guy who would never let a friend down. Mick Mars is the lone wolf of Mötley Crüe. Back home in Los Angeles, he is rarely seen out and about these days. He prefers to stay home and play his video games or write music - when he's not getting drunk of course! Mick is the rebel with a capital R, perhaps because he was raised in a strict, religious home where his father's word was law.

"My dad is a priest," Mick tells us when we get the chance to slip away for a moment and talk. “My upbringing was strict with a religious background but I turned my back on it quite early.”

“When I was little, my mother used to play music at home. She liked Elvis Presley and some others that were popular in the fifties. I was influenced and when I was seven I started playing the ukulele - but I tuned it like a guitar!” (*editors note: pretty sure he had one of those toy guitars that was his “first” guitar. he’s never said anything about a ukulele before.)

Mick got his first real guitar when he was nine years old.

“I got it as a gift from my cousin, I remember it cost twelve dollars!”

As long as Mick played for the family, his father didn't mind, but when Mick made it clear to him that he intended to pursue a career as a musician, his attitude changed.

“It was too much for him,” says Mick. “He didn't understand my choice at all and it took a long time before he could accept that his son was playing in a rock band.”

Mick is silent for a moment.

"It has gotten better," he says later.

Especially since his fellow believers started asking him to get autographs for their children. (Editors note: “fellow churchgoers”?? I’m not sure what that word is supposed to be translated to but I’ve gotten believers and co-religionists… so I’m going with believers for now.)

”Now he's even said he likes what I do.”

When he was about four years old the whole family moved to Los Angeles. There he was put in school, but Mick never had any interest in it.

“It was boring going to school... you only got to learn things that you had no practical use for. I already knew then that I wanted to be a musician, so I didn't think it would do me any good to study history, social studies and such subjects. I didn’t care about anything... except my guitar.”

Three Idols

Mick has three guitarists he puts above all others. The first is Jeff Beck, closely followed by Ritchie Blackmore and Michael Schenker.

“I have a dream,” says Mick, “to record an album with Jeff Beck! But he probably thinks I’m a weirdo... although nothing is impossible - except the impossible!”

Before Mick became a medium in Mötley Crüe, he played in top 40 groups. To support himself, he worked during the day. For a while, he worked in a motorcycle shop where he fixed engines. Other times he was a security guard.

"But most of the time I played so much (gigs) that I got food for the day," says Mick. “I only took the other jobs when I was really hungry.” (Editors Note: think he’s saying that he did so many gigs he’d have enough money afterwards for a meal. I do know he’d apparently play like 4-5 hour gigs a night and sometimes needed backup so he’d be able to rest his back for a bit. at least that’s what don dokken had said once!)

Mick now lives in an apartment in Marina del Rey just outside Los Angeles. He has just moved in and he talks vividly about the expansive view of the ocean.

“It’s so beautiful out there,” he says. “Peaceful, ocean as far as the eye can see. I'm sure I'll enjoy it there.”

Loyalty and Honesty

“By the way, I have two friends in Los Angeles, Kenny and Stick. We are deadbeats but we support each other in every situation. When I went to Europe, Kenny took care of my new apartment and I know he will try to get it in order until I get back.” (Editors note: I wanna say crackups instead of deadbeats tbh. I don’t know though so i’ll keep deadbeats.)

“Loyalty and honesty are two things I appreciate in friends, Kenny and Stick are both loyal and honest. I know I can always trust them.” (Editors note: foreshadowing going crazy rn.)

There is no girlfriend in Mick's life right now. He has had a few relationships, but hasn't been able to make them work.

"It's hard when you work in this industry," he says. "We travel so much and you don't get to see each other. My last girlfriend and I didn't see each other for eight months and it's no wonder we drifted apart. It's sad that it happened, I was actually in love with her - but right now the band has to come first, there's no compromise." (Editors note: wonder which gf this was)

Mick falls silent before speaking again.

“I would actually like to get married, he says, to a Swedish girl! They are the most beautiful girls in the world... By the way, I'm moving here. Tommy and I have already talked about it. Although it will take some time…” (Editors Note: haha very funny mick. this portion leads me to believe he wasn’t being very serious about the twenty kids thing.)

"If I get married, it has to be with a girl who has class," Mick continues. “I like pretty girls, but I don't like pretty girls who can't behave.”

“In addition, I demand one hundred percent loyalty, honesty and faithfulness. Cheaters are the worst thing I know!”

Do you want children?

“Twenty! And I hope they will be taller than me…”

Mick likes himself, but there's one thing he doesn't like - his height.

"I want to be taller," he says. "I'm way too short."

“It doesn't even help that I'm wearing heels.”

The average height is a little over 180 centimeters and Mick is "only" 170. (Editors note: 180cm is 5’10”. 170cm is 5’5” to 5’6”. Mick is 5’3” to 5’4”.)

"It's possible to operate on those that are too tall," says Mick. “So then it should be possible to operate on those who are too short! Add an extra piece of bone to each leg…” (editors note: honestly… idk what the fuck he’s talking about here. rip eighties mick, you would have loved leg lengthening surgery!)

Mick describes himself as calm, “if I don’t drink too much,” and the only thing that can really throw him off balance is when someone teases him.

“Then I go crazy and throw things around!”

The future is something Mick doesn't worry about. He wants Mötley Crüe to keep playing for as long as they can.

"The Rolling Stones haven’t stopped," he says. "Why would we?"

The most important things in Mick's life right now are: the band, a good sex life and intelligence. and the three most important words for Mick: “Eat The World!”

With those words we part ways. Mick and the others will soon be back again and then we will see them in their rotten element - in a big, dark concert hall. and that's where they do their best!

/// ok and that’s all! me and my translator have tried our best, but if there are any mistakes or mistranslations pls feel free to correct me!! i know using translator stuff online can be very hit or miss, but tbh most of this makes a lot of sense to me. seems like his dad wasn’t as accepting of his life path like i thought he was. mick always made it seem like his parents were cool with it from the get go. interesting. this whole interview was interesting, but like… mick you’re not gonna have an army of twenty kids who are all taller than you. be happy with the three you got lmaooo!!

[angelfevr]

akane kurashiki is (not) allocishet: an analysis

[pt: akane kurashiki is (not) allocishet: an analysis. end pt].

okay so we’ve been meaning to write this for a while but havent bc we’ve been focusing on other projects. slight disclaimer if u dont agree w this hc thats fine, just dont be a dick just bc it interferes w ur own interpretation . we all have our own ways of reading the text so. Yeah!! lets get started

so i just wanna say akane is a character i resonate with in a lot of ways, and a lot of what im going to say comes from my and others’ experiences. ur identities and experiences r def gonna affect how u view a piece of work right? 

so when i played through the series in 2023, i initially viewed akane as everyone else did: she’s in love with junpei, and even hced her as bi like most of the fandom. but the more i studied the source material, the more i felt thats not rlly the case?? esp after ztd, like im sorry but i cannot buy the idea that both junpei or akane wanna marry each other. junpei is for another day but in terms of akane i wanna talk abt the idea that she may be aromantic. 

immersing myself in the fandom, a lot of ppl’s first impressions of akane’s june persona is that she was initially gonna be this ditzy girl next door who only serves as a love interest for junpei. ofc that ended up not being the case, but i see ppl say that they only rlly cared for akane after finding out she’s zero. which imo is such a missed opportunity for analysis.

as june, akane interacts with the world through tropes. the first thing she does when we’re introduced to her is fall on junpei. and overall is seen as this nervous girl who wouldn’t harm anyone. she flirts w junpei throughout the game, yadda yadda yadda. when it comes to her identity as zero, she desperately wants a perfect ending where she can be with junpei. its guesswork as to which aspects are true of akane, but i personally see these traits as smth she thinks “kanny” would do. 

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“Junpei: Well, I dunno. Anything. I mean, you're hiding it. How would I know?

June: You mean, like...the number of men I've dated?

Junpei's heart stumbled over itself.

June: Do you want to know?

He had to admit, he was a little curious.

June: Don't worry.

She smiled at him.

June: Only 18...

!?

June: ...Times 0.

June: Yeah... I guess I just haven't met Mr. Right yet…”

“Number of men” is highlighted in green. End id].

of course, bc of her tumultuous childhood and how she didn’t have many friends, she never rlly had experience w dating. but not much suggests she would beyond her own words.

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“Kanny: You...meant a lot to me...when we were kids...

Kanny: I've liked you...for a long time, Junpei... A really...long...time..”

“Liked” is highlighted in green. End id]. 

.

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“"Okay..."

My voice shook as I answered.

It was hot in the room. It felt like my heart was on fire.

6 minutes or not, my heart burned with my feelings for him.

…”

“burned” is highlighted in green. End id]. 

but actions speak louder than words, and she doesn’t go far beyond flirting and declarations of love. in ztd, she doesn’t even make these advances even when she’s trying to lighten the mood or make things right with junpei. the only time being when she speaks with carlos in the pantry. 

[id: a log of dialogue from zero time dilemma which reads: 

akane: if it was because of me somehow… then this time i need to rush to his aid. that’s what i’ve decided anyway.

carlos: you really like junpei, don’t you?

akane: wh-what in the world are you saying, carlos?! 

carlos: i’m out of my depth when it comes to romance.

end id].

[id: a log of dialogue from zero time dilemma which reads: 

carlos: did you bake heart-shaped cookies full of love for your darling junpei?

akane: oh carlos… would you please stop teasing me… 

june is meant to be seen as the ideal japanese woman, and since performance/identity is a huge part of her character, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that she’s performing heterosexuality/amatonormativity, by extension femininity (but that’s an analysis for another day). 

akane is also slotted into the role of a mother figure for kyle just as sigma with the role of father. i can’t help but think of the scene in little shop of horrors (1986), audrey sings abt a stable and “ideal” middle class life. i remember watching it thinking it was odd, given that im aro and am not interested in settling down or emulating cishet middle class values. but my friend, who is poor just like audrey and akane, told me that it’s a common occurrence for poor ppl to think this way. to want a sense of stability even if it’s stereotypical. i feel like this applies to akane as well. i also hc her with bpd, and instability is a common symptom for us, so it makes sense for her to see junpei as a beacon of such, of normalcy. he’s rlly the only normal part of her childhood. she wants him to fix her lol . 

[id: screenshot from virtue’s last reward which reads: 

“i pleaded with her to leave, but she quietly shook her head. there was someone very special to her, she told me. he had saved her life once, and she felt her death would help to repay that favor.” end id].

and while we do see oldkane/vlrkane reminisce abt her life w junpei thru kyle, the passcode being jumpydolls, i feel like thats less abt love and more abt the fact that shes lonely, which a lot of ppl mistake that like. love can fix that.. when it rlly cant. not to mention what i said earlier

akane and junpei rarely make physical contact beyond junpei holding her in his arms and hugging. you can of course be a couple and not be that physically affectionate, but junpei is the only one initiating this. also like?? not even an “i love you” when you haven’t seen each other in nine years???????

[id: cg from nine hours nine persons nine doors. junpei holds akane’s shoulder with a worried expression. Akane has her eyes closed. End id].

[id: screenshot of zero time dilemma. junpei hugs akane near the basketball court in the lounge. akane wears a wedding ring on her right hand. end id].

[id: screenshot from zero time dilemma. junpei holds a ring in his right hand. white text on the bottom reads, “well, remember back in elementary school your dream was to wear a ring?” end id].

this is actually a common experience for aros who dont realize aromanticism is even an option. i remember when i was a kid, i’d have daydreams of getting married and dating ppl but when the opportunity actually came, i was uncomfortable and rejected it. 

i feel like junpei’s proposal and akane’s acceptance were reckless of both of them, and probably not even signs of true feelings. junpei’s arc is abt regaining agency, and akane’s is abt control (hashtag cinematic parallels), so it makes sense this would happen. both wish they could return to their childhoods, hence their emotionally immature attitudes + tendency to reminisce abt the past (junpei is counterphobic to this though and eventually gets over it in vlr’s timeline, though akane continues to act this way going forward). poor decision making is a sign of trauma after all. 

i mentioned how akane (and junpei but again. Another story for another day) subverts gendered expectations w her personality. aro ppl (as well as lesbians if u wanna go for a lesbian akane reading) tend to feel disconnected from their agab bc yk we arent straight and like a cishet woman liking a man is a sign of womanhood according to Society............ so like what if ur a girl who likes girls? or doesnt like anyone??? what does that make u??? (again, this could either be a trans reading or a lesbian reading)

anyway my point is. i think its more interesting to read akane’s interest in junpei as her wanting stability and a normal life, esp given that she is traumatized and was once poor. i feel like fluffy junepei fanworks make their dynamic very one-note and lack what makes their dynamic intriguing. but hey!! thats just my opinion as an aro person and how i prefer to interpret it 

[astarionslittlejuicebox]

The Promise of Eternity (Part 5)

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: The reader helped Astarion ascend and became his spawn. After saving the world from the Elder brain and it’s destruction, the reader and Astarion set out to take on the world together. While he promised to never forget the gifts the reader has given him, Astarion has seemed to have changed his attitude towards the reader in the last century…. After someone breaks one of  Astarion’s rules, how will this affect the reader’s fate?

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: potential for minor spoilers, suggestive themes, language, mentions of death, mentions of blood, abusive relationship, mention of slavery

Word Count: 1145

Imagine Series

Side Notes: 

This imagine series takes place 200 years after the events of Baldur’s Gate 3.  Everything you read in here is a story from my mind outside of the original BG3 character Astarion.

In this imagine series, Astarion is a bit more unemotionally unavailable, and this series will follow the decisions and consequences of that change. This is not canonically accepted and it is just an idea I’ve had in my head! (I do believe Astarion might truly care for the reader after Ascension, but that is open to individual interpretation.)

In this series, TAV is mildly based on my first character I played in BG3; she is a drow and I will make references to her in her background and knowledge as well. I do apologize that it is not 100% your own imagine, but the name for TAV is up to you as well as anything else that I can think of leaving to you, the reader, to decide.

I appreciate everyone who reads the imagines and this series, and I hope you enjoy the story!

TAV POV

“Good morning, Mistress.” I awoke the next morning with a startle as Kristiana knocked and entered my bedchambers.

“Fuck!” My hand clutched where my heart would have been beating through my chest. “Kristiana, damn, I’m sorry. You startled me.” The woman frowned slightly as she took in the sight of me still in yesterday’s clothes.

“Mistress, did you not go to bed last night?” Concern laced in every word she spoke, but I waved a dismissive hand.

“Do not fret. I was merely doing some very interesting reading and lost track of time.” I gave her a reassuring smile as I took note of my page and closed the book. “Let’s get dressed for the day.”

After bathing and getting dressed in a beautiful jade dress that flowed around my ankles, I dismissed Kristiana again for the whole day under the guise that I wanted her to enjoy the change of season. I waited until she left before I opened Inception of Yesterday and reread the last page I had fallen asleep on, and my eyes widened in surprise. This page had a detailed step-by-step process of a ritual Elminster had done in 1000 DR to see what caused a catastrophic fire in the Waterdeep Palace. If my heart still had a rhythmic beating, it would have increased its pace as my eyes reread and then read again the words on the page. A sliver of hope began to sprout in my chest as I studied the steps, but a small voice in the back of my head also began to sow doubt in the back of my mind.

There is only one way to test this. I thought to myself. I have to see if I can do the ritual and see what happened here last night. I read again the list of ingredients needed for the ritual: four red candles, a single blue candle, chalk, and a connection to the Weave. I bit at my lip as I looked up from the book. I needed to head back into town for supplies, and I had a feeling that I might need to have a few rounds of those supplies. Magic has a tendency to be temperamental when attempting it for the first time.

Gathering my coat and placing the books from the library in my bag, I threw open my bedroom door to find Astarion standing there with his fist poised to knock on my door before  I let out a startled yelp. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised itself on the pale elf’s face at the sight of me.

“I have to go into town for supplies.” I answered before Astarion could ask anything of me. “I may require your assistance later on for the task you have asked of me, but I need to see if I am capable of doing the spell first. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” The words fumbled out of my mouth as I avoided prolonged eye contact with the pair of crimson eyes I had been in love with for centuries now. The same ones that continued to break my heart for the last century. I said nothing more as I pushed past Astarion and closed the door behind me.

“Darling, you seem to have forgotten something.” His velvety voice sounded amused as I started to walk away from him. I paused and noticed that the sole of my foot felt cooler than before. Looking down, I had noticed what the vampire had alluded to: I wasn’t wearing shoes. I groaned before turning around, but Astarion stood in front of my door, blocking my reentry. “Does your maiden not take care in getting you dressed?”

“I dismissed her this morning after putting on my dress.” The words bitterly left my mouth as I avoided eye contact with the piercing red eyes staring at me. Why did he suddenly seem to care? He hadn’t in a century. A deep chuckle sounded from his chest, which made me look at him. “Can I put my shoes on now, or do you wish to ridicule me further?” Any amusement that was on the elf’s face dissipated at my question.

“Darling—” He began, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but you have asked a task of me and I must do so. I am not sure what has changed recently, but you cannot just resume calling someone darling when you’ve treated them like a speck of dirt or a bug to be squashed for the last hundred years.” Those crimson eyes of his widened at my outburst. “Now, if you will forgive me, I have to get these supplies, and do my duty. I’m sure your tiefling is looking for you.” He made no move to stop me as he stepped out of my way, and he was gone by the time I threw on a pair of heels to match my dress.

I hadn’t spoken to Astarion in such a manner since the tiefling had arrived at the castle, nor had Astarion spoken so casually to me since her arrival. She despised my guts the moment she stepped foot through the door, and Astarion seemed to do the same from the moment he made eye contact with her. An unsettling feeling began to emerge in the pit of my stomach as I thought more about the damn tiefling, but I pushed it to the back of my mind as I hurried to gather my supplies.

Astarion POV

You cannot just resume calling someone darling when you’ve treated them like a speck of dirt or a bug to be squashed for the last hundred years. (TAV’s name)’s words echoed in my mind as I walked away from her room. He hadn’t known that he was acting in such a way to her, and it made him feel as though he had been absent for quite some time.

Could I really have treated her so horribly? He thought to himself as he walked the halls of his castle they had built together. Why can I not recall the last century? It seemed like just yesterday Zeyis arrived at the castle’s door. His feet seemed to stop as he stood in front of a large portrait of himself. His eyes trained themselves on this painting, and his brain struggled to recall when he had replaced the portrait of (TAV) and him. Several emotions passed through him as he drew blanks, but two emotions remained: anger and confusion.

“Admiring yourself, are you?” Zeyis’ voice asked from behind him. As Astarion turned to look at her, all of his anger and confusion was forgotten the moment their eyes met. Something in the back of his mind was nagging at him, but he couldn’t quite place it as he looked at the tiefling.

What had been bothering him?

[luvidove]

Under the Cherry Blossoms

Pairing one- Jay!exboyfriend x Y/N!reader

Pairing two- Heeseung!Roomate x Y/N!reader

Features- Jake from ENHYPEN

w/c : 3.2k

Warning: Fluff, Angst, breakup, reader gets sad supa sad. None of the people I’ve used for this small story has nothing to do with this in real life! Purely fiction (besides my personal experiences that I’ve slipped in here). ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD I WROTE THIS AT A CAFE PLS I’M SORRY.

A/N- I hope you guys like this short story! I decided to write this as I’ve been dwelling on it for a while and I thought I’d write something short for my big project!

What is this about?-

Amidst academic pressures and personal turmoil, your close relationship with your once caring boyfriend, Jay, turns to a dramatic confrontation in the middle of a storm. Stranded and overwhelmed, you find solace in your roommate’s unwavering support. Seeking a fresh start, you both visit a botanical garden where you plant cherry blossom seeds, symbolizing each other’s growth and the start of a new chapter. As you navigate you evolving relationship, you and Heeseung discover the beauty of a love that blossoms from genuine care and understanding.

This year has taken a toll on you. The demands of school have drained your energy, leaving little time for anything else. Your friendships have faded into the background, and your relationship has been stretched thin. Your boyfriend has become increasingly frustrated, feeling neglected and pushed aside. Tonight, as you both stood in the middle of a deserted street, he finally snapped.

“I’m tired of this!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the night. “You never have time for me anymore. It’s always about your studies.”

You tried to explain, your words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to make him understand. “I’m just trying to survive this semester. You know how important this is to me Jay.”

“Do you even still want me? Have I not done enough for your stupid head?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed, staying his frustration.

You look at him in disbelief. “ Yes, of course I do. I love you!” You reach for his hand, but he snatches it to his side in disgust.

“You know what- fine! I already had someone better than you if something happened between us. Glad I was right…you make me sick.” He stressed.

You were appalled. His anger boiled over, and before you could say anything more, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, stunned and alone.

The sky had been threatening all day, and now, as if on cue, the heavens opened up, drenching you in a sudden downpour. Thunder rumbled ominously above, and you realized with a sinking feeling that you were miles away from your apartment, stranded in an unfamiliar part of the city.

You were supposed to be heading to a nice restaurant for your date with your now ex boyfriend. Though, it all changed when you replied to an email from your teacher.

You pulled out your phone, your hands trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. You hesitated when you reached your boyfriend’s name, your thumb hovering over the call button. But doubt crept in, and you quickly locked your phone and shut it off, unable to bring yourself to reach out to him.

This part of the city was unfamiliar, almost rural, and far from clean. You felt a shiver of unease crawl up your spine as you looked around, the rain blurring your vision. No buses or taxis would come here, not at this hour, not in this weather. You were completely alone. You sat down on the curb of the street, pondering about your next decision.

You needed to think, to find a way out of this. But as the storm raged on, all you could do was stand there, lost and uncertain, wondering how everything had gone so wrong..

HEESEUNG’S POV

"It's past curfew... where is she?" I mutter, my voice tinged with worry as I glance at the clock. I've called her twelve times already, each unanswered ring only heightening my anxiety. Our mutual friend, Jake, who’s been over for hours now, has called her too. But there's been no response—no sign of where she might be.

"Okay, do you know where she usually goes?" I ask him, trying to keep the panic from creeping into my voice.

He looks at me, his expression mirroring my concern. "You know she’s always in the library, but it’s closed now. She wouldn’t be in there. The cafés she goes to are closed, too."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "Alright then... get in my car. I’ll grab my keys and unlock the door for you."

He nods, quickly heading to the front door. I snatch my keys off the kitchen counter, my heart pounding as I follow him out, locking the door behind me. The night air feels heavy with the weight of the unknown, each step towards the car echoing in the silence. I unlock the car, and we both slide in, the quiet inside almost suffocating.

“Shouldn’t we try one more time?” he suggests, his voice hesitant but hopeful.

I hesitate, considering his suggestion. "Yeah, I guess we should. I don’t want to go to the police only to find out she’s back at the house."

With a deep breath, I pull out my phone and dial her number again. The phone rings once... then twice... and a third time. Each unanswered ring feels like a punch to the gut, the silence on the other end growing more oppressive with every passing second.

Y/N’S POV

You bounce your leg nervously, head hung low, as you sit on the side of the road. The smell of rain on the pavement fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of food from street vendors that have long since closed for the night. The streetlights cast hazy reflections on the wet ground, the neon signs flickering in the puddles. You had searched desperately for shelter, but every door was locked, every building dark. Now, all you could do was sit in defeat, shame weighing heavily on your expression.

You shiver, the cold seeping through my drenched clothes, and I can’t help but wonder what I should do next. You fumble for my phone, hands trembling as you turn it on. The screen lights up, revealing 46 missed calls from your roommate.

Shit.

You quickly unlock my phone and dial his number. It rings only once before he picks up.

“Hello—?”

“Fuck, are you okay? Where are you?” he demands, his voice edged with panic.

“I’m… uh, I don’t know,” You reply weakly, your voice cracking as you cough hard, the chill getting to me.

“Y/N, are you okay? Send me your location,” he urges, worry lacing his tone.

“I’m fine, just… please hurry,” You manage to say, your throat raw.

“Don’t worry, I will,” he promises, his voice softer now, but still strained with concern. “Please, please be okay.”

“I’ll end the call now…” You suggest, your exhaustion overwhelming.

“No,” he interrupts, his tone firm. “Stay on the phone with me until we get there.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, and mutter an “okay.” But as the minutes tick by, the steady hum of the rain and the sound of his voice slowly lull you into a heavy, dreamless sleep. Still sitting by the road, the phone slips from your hand, Your grip loosening as exhaustion takes over completely.

The rain continues to fall in sheets, the storm showing no signs of letting up. Heeseung’s voice is a steady murmur through the phone, but you can barely make out the words as sleep pulls you under. Everything blurs—the cold, the wetness, the ache in your bones. The world feels distant, like it’s slipping away.

Suddenly, a harsh sound breaks through your haze, pulling you back to the edge of consciousness. It takes a moment to realize it's the sound of a car approaching. The tires splash through puddles as the vehicle comes closer, headlights piercing through the darkness. You blink groggily, trying to shake off the fog in your mind.

"Y/N!" a voice shouts, cutting through the noise of the storm. You struggle to focus, lifting your head just as the car screeches to a stop a few feet away. The driver’s side door flies open, and through the rain, you see Heeseung running toward you, his expression a mix of panic and relief.

He drops to his knees beside me, ignoring the puddles soaking through his clothes. "Hey, hey, stay with me," he says, his voice gentle but urgent as he brushes a wet strand of hair from your face. His touch is warm, grounding you in the moment. "Come on, Y/N, wake up."

You blink slowly, your vision clearing just enough to see the worry etched on his face. "You came..." you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course I did," he replies, his tone softening. "I’m here now. Let’s get you out of this rain."

He carefully helps you to your feet, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to support your weight. You're unsteady, your legs barely holding you up, but he’s strong and steady, guiding you to the car. As he opens the passenger door and helps you inside, you can’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over you, the warmth of the car a stark contrast to the chill outside.

Jake, sitting in the backseat, leans forward, concern written all over his face. "You look awful, you okay?" he asks, his voice tight.

You nod weakly, trying to muster a reassuring smile, ignoring his small comment to tear you out of this trance. "Yeah... just cold," you reply, though your words are shaky. Suddenly, your body shivers hard.

Heeseung slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you before starting the car. He hands you a soft and fluffy blanket that he grabbed out of his trunk. "We’ll be home soon," he says, his voice filled with determination as he pulls away from the curb. "I’ll get you warm and dry, okay? Just hang in there."

The car’s heater hums to life, filling the space with warmth. You lean back against the seat, your eyes heavy, but this time it’s a different kind of exhaustion. You know you’re safe now, and the fear and tension that had gripped you all night begin to fade.

As the car speeds through the rain-soaked streets, you find yourself drifting in and out of sleep, his voice and the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers lulling you into a peaceful, dreamless rest. Before you fully succumb to sleep, you feel his hand gently squeeze yours, a silent reassurance that he’s there, and that he’s not going anywhere.

THE MORNING AFTER

The next morning, you wake up in your own bed, the familiar scent of your sheets providing a sense of comfort. For a moment, the events of the previous night feel like a distant memory, a bad dream. But as you stir, you notice the faint sound of someone moving around in your apartment.

Your head pounding hard, your body weak. Though, you continue the need travel out of your room.

You sit up, still groggy, and see a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on your nightstand. The sight brings a small smile to your face. Your mind flashes back to the way Heeseung took care of you last night, the way he held you close as if you were the most important thing in the world.

Curious and a little nervous, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, noticing you’re dressed in one of your comfiest hoodies—not what you were wearing last night. Did he...? The thought brings a flush to your cheeks.

You walk into the living room, finding Heeseung in the kitchen, making breakfast. The smell of coffee and something savory fills the air. He looks up as you enter, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Hey, you’re awake," he says, his tone gentle. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you reply, feeling a warmth in your chest. "I, uh... I don’t remember much after you picked me up."

He nods, setting a plate of food on the table. "You fell asleep pretty quickly. I didn’t want to wake you, so I just brought you home, changed you into something more comfortable, and let you rest."

You think for a bit. “What about Jake?” You ask.

He smiles slightly. “Oh I had dropped him off at his house before coming here. He’s deathly worried about you, so you should shoot him a text when you feel like it.” He replies.

"Thank you," you say, your voice quieter now, more vulnerable. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come."

He walks over to you, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, just like he did the night before. "You don’t have to thank me. I’d do it again in a heartbeat."

For a moment, the two of you stand there, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from each other. There’s an unspoken connection, something that’s always been there but never fully acknowledged. The intensity of the night has brought it to the surface, and now, standing in the morning light, it feels impossible to ignore.

You look up at him, searching his eyes for something—confirmation, maybe, that what you’re feeling isn’t one-sided. He seems to sense it too, his gaze flicking down to your lips before quickly meeting your eyes again. The moment stretches, thick with anticipation, until finally, he breaks the silence.

"Last night made me realize something," he says, his voice low and earnest. "I care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve been willing to admit, even to myself. When I couldn’t reach you, I was... scared. Not just because you were in trouble, but because the thought of losing you... it was too much."

His words hang in the air, a confession that feels both overwhelming and perfect in its timing. You feel your heart race, but it’s not from fear or anxiety this time—it’s from the realization that you feel the same.

"I care about you too," you admit, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "More than I’ve let myself admit. Last night... I realized how much you mean to me."

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with yours in a way that feels natural, like something you’ve both been waiting for. "So, what do we do now?" he asks, his voice soft but filled with hope.

You smile, a real, genuine smile that lights up your face. "I think we take it one step at a time. Together."

And with that, the two of you share a quiet, tender moment, your hands still entwined, both of you silently agreeing that this is the beginning of something new, something worth exploring. The storm from the night before is gone, replaced by the warmth of the morning sun and the promise of what could be.

The days after that stormy night seem brighter, as if the world itself is reflecting the new chapter that has opened in your life. Your relationship with Heeseung has grown into something deeper, more meaningful. It’s not just the late-night conversations or the way he seems to understand you better than anyone else—it’s the way he makes you feel like you’re part of something bigger, something important.

ONE MONTH LATER

One weekend, you both decide to escape the city and spend a day at a nearby botanical garden, a peaceful place where you can relax and take in the beauty of nature. The garden is full of vibrant flowers and tall, ancient trees that provide a canopy of shade. The air is fresh, carrying the subtle scents of blooming roses and jasmine.

As you walk along the winding paths, you talk about your plans for the future—your dreams, your ambitions, and the things that scare you. The conversation flows easily, like it always does with him, but today, there’s an undercurrent of something more, a shared understanding that the future is something you’re starting to envision together.

You come across a small, secluded area of the garden, where a single bench sits under a flowering cherry tree. The petals fall gently around you, carried by a light breeze. He leads you to the bench, and you both sit down, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

“This place is beautiful,” you say, your voice soft as you lean back and close your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun wash over you.

“It is,” he agrees, but when you open your eyes and look at him, you see that he’s not looking at the garden—he’s looking at you, a small, thoughtful smile on his lips.

You feel your heart skip a beat, the quiet moment between you filled with something unspoken yet powerful. “What?” you ask, a little self-conscious under his gaze.

He shakes his head slightly, still smiling. “I was just thinking about how much has changed since that night,” he says. “And how glad I am that we’re here now.”

“Me too,” you reply, your voice warm with sincerity.

There’s a brief silence, comfortable and full of meaning, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small packet of seeds. You look at him curiously as he hands them to you.

“What are these?” you ask, turning the packet over in your hands.

“They’re seeds for cherry blossom trees,” he explains. “I thought we could plant them together. As a way to mark this new beginning.”

Your heart swells at the gesture, and you feel a rush of affection for him. “I love that idea,” you say, smiling brightly.

Together, you find a small patch of earth nearby. He kneels down beside you as you carefully dig a shallow hole and place the seeds in the ground. As you cover them with soil, you both look at each other, sharing a quiet, meaningful glance.

“This is just the start,” he says softly, his hand brushing against yours. “We’re planting something that will grow, just like us.”

You nod, your chest tight with emotion. “Something beautiful,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, leaning in closer, his eyes filled with warmth and hope. “Yeah, something beautiful.”

As you finish planting the seeds, you sit back, feeling a sense of accomplishment and hope. The garden, with its blooming flowers and gentle breeze, feels like a perfect setting for this moment—a symbol of your new beginning.

You both rise from the ground, and he takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll come back and see how they’re growing,” he says with a smile. “Just like we’ll keep growing together.”

You nod, your heart full. “I’m looking forward to it,” you reply. “To everything that comes next.”

You walk back through the garden, hand in hand, the future ahead of you filled with promise. As the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the world, you feel a deep sense of contentment. The uncertainties that once loomed large now seem smaller, overshadowed by the comfort of knowing you have each other.

When you finally leave the garden and head back to the city, the world feels different—brighter, more hopeful. The path before you might still be uncertain, but it’s a journey you’re excited to embark on together.

As you look over at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the evening light, you realize that no matter what challenges come your way, you’re ready to face them. Because now, you have something real, something beautiful to hold on to.

And with that thought, you step into the future with a heart full of hope and a deep sense of connection, knowing that whatever lies ahead, you’re not facing it alone.

———————————————————————————————

THE END SUCKERS!! Jk jk I love you guys! I do apologize, as 3k words is NOT short :(

Though, I do hope you enjoyed this small (sorry) story!

BONUS! Fav song of the day!

[merge-conflict]

interview with a thief

tagged by @ghostoffuturespast thank you! I also decided to play with the framing of this one because it seemed like it'd be fun. please note that 'Hellman' within the text of this piece is actually Johnny in disguise, which hopefully becomes obvious after a bit of the interview. The number of line breaks means it's long under the cut, fair warning.

<>

Kerry Eurodyne has refused all media interviews since he moved into the penthouse suite at Maximus Turrim, but we were lucky enough to catch two of his associates: Dr. Anders Hellman and Valentina Myśliwiec, both former employees of Arasaka, at the Regis bar. They agreed to an interview on the condition that they would not answer any questions about their current legal entanglement, Rogue Amendiares, or Eurodyne himself. They have also chosen the questions for this interview. Due to technical issues, no video or photos are available.

Dr. Hellman has been reclusive since his widely publicized break from Arasaka, and looks very little like the tall, polished doctor who once presented at prestigious conferences around the globe. Myśliwiec is a dark horse, but with the kind of studied intensity one would expect from Arasaka SpecOps. They seem to be old friends, spending the first few minutes of our time arguing about the contents of the questionnaire.

Thanks for agreeing to the interview, I really appreciate it.

Hellman: Sure, although just to be clear I’m only a bystander.

Myśliwiec: You’re never only a bystander. Magnanimous of you to share the spotlight with me, though.

Well, you’re something of an unknown to our audience, so it’s great to get a chance to know more about you.

Myśliwiec: Oh, well that is exciting.

Let’s start with the basics. Name? Nickname?

Myśliwiec: Valentina Myśliwiec. You need me to spell that? No? People usually call me V.

How should I address you?

Myśliwiec: Thief. Any pronouns is fine.

Thief?

Myśliwiec: Is that a problem?

No, just unexpected, given your background. Is that from your days as a mercenary?

Hellman: Mercenary? (laughs) Two-bit gonk at best.

Myśliwiec: Takes one to know one. And to answer the question: yes. It was a very transitory period of my life.

Hellman: (scoffing) Really?

You could change it to fugitive now, I suppose.

Myśliwiec: (laughing) Maybe I should.

So, what’s your star sign?

Myśliwiec: I knew you were going to ask me this but I’ve just forgotten.

Hellman: Libra.

Myśliwiec: How do you know that?

Hellman: I looked it up, right here. Not sure you’re very diplomatic.

Myśliwiec: If I was undiplomatic you’d know.

How tall are you?

Myśliwiec: Six two.

Where are you from?

Myśliwiec: Born and raised in NC. This is actually the furthest I’ve been from home.

Hellman: Damn, V. Now that’s a sad story.

Favorite fruit? Do they have fruit in Night City?

Myśliwiec: …Kerry Eurodyne?

Is that a question?

Hellman: Alright, wise guy, Kerry isn’t an option on the list.

Myśliwiec: Tough crowd.

Hellman: Mango isn’t on here either. There, strawberries. What’s with this list, anyway? Where are the bananas?

Myśliwiec: (laughing) What?

Bananas?

Hellman: What?

Myśliwiec: Bananas have been extinct for thirty years.

Hellman: I knew that.

OK. Moving on. What’s your favorite season?

Myśliwiec: Spring.

Hellman: And how long have those been extinct?

Fifty, at least.

Myśliwiec: At least.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

Myśliwiec, Hellman: Coffee.

How many hours of sleep do you get on average?

Myśliwiec: Ten. Twice as much as I used to.

Even with Arasaka gunning for you?

Hellman: (waving his finger) That one’s not on the list.

Sorry. Can’t blame me for trying. Are you a dog or a cat person?

Hellman: She loves dogs.

Myśliwiec: Cat person. (peering over Hellman’s shoulder) You’d better have selected cat.

What’s your dream trip?

Myśliwiec: The moon. I’d love to see the Earth from up there.

Hellman: Ah, you are a romantic.

Myśliwiec: Don’t tell anyone. Can we strike that from the record?

Sorry, no.

Hellman: I’m going to select ‘outer space’. There’s no option for moon.

Who’s your favorite fictional character?

Myśliwiec: Hackerman.

Hellman: Who the hell is Hackerman?

Myśliwiec: The most powerful hacker of all time?

Hellman: Alright, better question: who the hell are all these people?

Myśliwiec: Let me see. Oh, definitely Maria the Destroyer.

Hellman: Hard to argue with a name like that.

Number of blankets that you sleep with?

Myśliwiec: Just one.

Hellman: Depends on how you define blanket. (Myśliwiec elbows him in the ribs.) Alright, alright, “one”.

What’s a fun fact?

Myśliwiec: Did you know there’s a kind of butterfly that preys on ants? The caterpillars pretend to be ant larvae and get taken back to the nest, where they use additional mimicry to act like an ant queen. They eat all the ant larvae, get big and fat, and then pupate right there in the nest.

Hellman: You and your disgusting bug facts. I’m not typing all that.

Myśliwiec: Well, what’s my result?

Hellman: It says Purple Force.

Myśliwiec: Absolutely not. Purple Force? I’m obviously Red Menace. You picked dog, didn’t you?

Hellman: What, you think I’d lie to you?

Myśliwiec: Uhuh. I guess that’s the end of our time.

Hellman: Your first interview. Not so bad, huh?

Not bad at all. Thank you for your time.

Tagging @corpocyborg, @corphoe, @gamerkitten, @dani-the-goblin The original questions for the interview are:

Name Nickname Gender Star Sign Height Nationality/Ethnicity Favorite Fruit? Favorite Season? Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? Average hours of sleep? Dog or Cat person? Dream Trip? Favorite Fictional Character? Number of Blankets you sleep with? Fun fact?

[luxurybrownbarbie]

Hey Barbie,

I’ve been official with my boyfriend for nearly a year and we dated for a year before that. I spent last year studying in the US and he asked me out when I came home for Christmas. I said yes because I thought why not and he flew over to visit me in March too.

He comes from a very well-off family and has a year and a half left until he qualifies as a doctor. I’ve always worked my ass off to make money, but haven’t been able to get a job alongside my studies yet. I also come from a background where I can’t just ask for financial help or support.

My issue is just that before we were on the same page about so many things like tidiness, dates, career goals, and I’ve always been vocal about what I expect from a partner. But now that I’m back and we’re spending a lot of time together, he has just not been meeting my needs. Like before he would offer to get an Uber or buy me food and now he’ll look at me when we go shopping because he doesn’t want to pay the bill. I literally have to drag him to do it, and it’s giving me the biggest ick.

I don’t think these are big things either because I’ll take him on trips and pay for it (not food I refuse), but these small things mean everything to me because I rarely ask for big things. He is super sweet, has a photographic memory, and I know that he loves me but I feel so caged in. We also went on a break for a week last month, and I felt great for the time alone, but he literally barely left his apartment.

I decided to give it another try because he said he would work on the boundaries issues that led to the break. I’m just at this point where I’m 22, in my final year, and I just don’t know what to do. Do you have any advice?

Sorry for the super long ask, and thanks for reading lovely! ❤️

You are in bondage sister, omg! You are only 22 years old, you need to leave him!

You’re not imagining things, you’re not wrong. You’re feeling caged in because you are.

How is he super sweet? Nothing you’ve said gives me that inclination whatsoever.

He is actively making your life more difficult. If you are struggling for money, why are you spending it on trips for him? It’s about equity. You should not have to judge or force him to take care of bills on nights out or get you an Uber.

He’s not going to change.

He’s got a vibrant, smart, beautiful 22 year old he gets to suck the life and youth out of! Why would he ever change? You complain, but he knows he will eventually be able to get you to just accept his shortcomings as long as he promises to “work on them”.

He stopped trying after you were fully committed to him. (Not your fault, tale as old as time.) He’s moved into outright apathy. Ubers and food are literally the barest of bare minimums, this is just pure stinginess.

Don’t try to figure out why you should leave. You’ll gaslight yourself into thinking you’re overreacting. Figure out why you would want to stay.

Because from here, it reads like you're hoping he'll go back to being the person he was before (he won't!), or you're hoping that the love you have will see you through (it won’t).

You’re young. You should be having fun and enjoying dating, not dragging along a useless man who is actively making your life more difficult. It’s okay to leave. Don’t try to avoid the heartbreak just for the sake of it. Go start enjoying dating.

[alarawriting]

Fuuuck... accidentally posted to the wrong account against.

Have a thing I'm working on instead of a rant that belonged on my main blog, instead. ****

You are very confused about how you got here, and moreover, what here even is. The last thing you remember, you were cramming for your Organic Chemistry final, it was like 4 or 5 am – you were scared of looking at the clock too often, so you’d been avoiding it – and it was so hard to stay awake, despite the six espressos, three Jolt colas, five regular Cokes, three energy drinks, and caffeine pill you had taken, but you were trying to force yourself to read over the text and repeat to yourself everything it said. The exam was going to be at 8 am and you needed to do well. Your entire future depended on it. You remember having a massive headache and thinking you should go find some Advil, and then deciding against it because you couldn’t spare the time from studying.

Now you’re in a large… cavern? Throne room? Temple? The room’s enormous, with walls that look like white marble glittering with embedded crystal, and you are standing in front of a winged unicorn, a human-sized bunny rabbit who is standing on its haunches and has six – arms? Forelimbs? It looks kind of like what if Shiva was a fluffy grey bunny rabbit? – and a Chinese dragon. The Chinese dragon is small for a dragon, maybe 10 or 12 feet long but it’s coiled around itself, looped tightly enough that its head is about, maybe 8 feet high. The unicorn is the size of a racehorse. The three entities occupy a dais in the middle of the room, with some sort of flame-like background that is in rainbow colors, and oh shit, obviously you are dreaming. Fuck. You need to wake yourself up now.

“Leo Chen?” the unicorn asks. Her lips move, but not like a human saying the words “Leo Chen” would move. You can’t lip read but you know whatever it was her horse lips are saying, it’s not what you’re hearing. Like a bad dub. Shit. Too many Godzilla movies. Netflix dubs are a lot better than this.

“Look, this is great and all and I’m sure I would normally love this dream, but I’ve got to study for my orgo final that is happening something like three hours from now, so I think I need to wake up.”

You do not wake up. Normally when your dreams go lucid and you realize, oh right, Grandma’s actually dead, or Jesus I am about to get hit by a bus except this isn’t real and I’m dreaming, or whatever, you wake up. This is not always in your favor. The dream where Jeff Whittaker turned out to be gay and have a crush on you and the two of you were going to go on a date and then you remembered, wait, gay or not there is no way he’s gonna want to date me, and then you realized it was a dream, you tried very hard to not wake up, but it didn’t work. Realizing it’s a dream wakes you up. So why aren’t you waking up?

The Chinese dragon is laughing at you. Chortling. You didn’t think anyone ever really chortled, that was a word Lewis Carroll made up, but no, he’s chortling. “Oh, dear. Another one of the ‘it’s a dream’ ones.”

The bunny rabbit says, in a very butch lesbian voice, “Yeah, sorry, dude. It’s not a dream and you don’t have an orgo final anymore.”

“I do have an orgo final! In three hours! Or less, depending on how long I’ve been asleep!”

In a gentle, musical, feminine voice, the winged unicorn says, “I’m so sorry, Leo. You’re not asleep.”

“You’re dead,” the rabbit says.

The unicorn glares at the rabbit. “Petra, do you need to be so blunt about it?”

“Oh, you could have me tell him,” the Chinese dragon says. “You’re pushing up daisies! Not pining for the fjords! Kicked the bucket! You are an ex-human!”

“And you, Hundun, do not need to be cruel about it.” The unicorn looks right at you. For the first time you notice that she has predator eyes, facing you, not the side-eyes typical of a horse. Also, they are purple. This is plainly shit your brain got out of The Last Unicorn or maybe My Little Pony – in fact, with a winged white unicorn and a black and gold Chinese dragon, this is a lot like My Little Pony.

“No, I’m definitely dreaming,” you say confidently. “You look waaaay too much like characters from My Little Pony. Except the bunny, I don’t know where my brain got you.”

The Chinese dragon laughs again. He is not voice-acted by John de Lancie, but the general tone and pitch of his voice aren’t entirely dissimilar. “I knew it was going to bite us in the ass someday that we sent someone back.”

“Hush, Hundun. The young man is dealing with a lot right now.”

The rabbit says, “Look, I’m sorry. You’re dead and we brought you here because we need people like you.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, Jesus, it’s an isekai. I’m the Chosen One? The Hero who’s destined to fight the Demon Lord or some shit like that? That’s not even vaguely believable. I’m an overweight biochem major shooting for medical school. I’ve never fought anything if you don’t count video games and frankly I don’t even like JRPGs where you swing a sword around and kill things. There is no way I would ever be some kind of special chosen one.”

“You’re right,” the rabbit says. “You’re not actually special.”

“At all,” the Chinese dragon says. “You are, in many ways, miserably average. I mean, I’ll give you this, you’re smart and hardworking. Well, at least the hard working part, given that you just gave yourself an aneurysm studying for an exam. I can’t help but think that if you were smart you could have avoided that.”

You’d had a terrible headache.

No. Bullshit. You’re not dead, this is an anxiety dream because of the headache making you feel like you were going to have a stroke. That’s a figure of speech. Guys your age do not actually have strokes, not even if they’ve been up for 32 hours writing papers and studying for exams and have been mainlining caffeine and energy drinks the entire time. The one dose of Adderall you were able to get from your roommate’s friend would have worn off a long time ago, that was more than 12 hours ago.

“Lemme guess,” you say. “You’re the Power of Kindness” – you point at the unicorn – “you’re the Power of Honesty—” the rabbit—“and you’re the Power of Being An Asshole.”

All three of them start laughing hysterically at this.

“He has you figured, Hundun,” the rabbit says.

“Oh, absolutely! And Eufy, all ‘pwetty pwease people don’t be mean to each over…’”

“It is true you’re fairly blunt, Petra,” the unicorn says, chuckling. “As for Hundun… we need to work together so let’s not go there.”

“It’s more like Order, Chaos and Harmony,” Petra, which is apparently the rabbit’s name, says.

“Called it. This is some kind of weird MLP fanfic my brain is making up,” you say.

“Or Change and Transformation, Stability, and the necessary balance between them that allows life to exist,” the unicorn says. “Or Rebellion, Doing What You’re Told, and Working Things Out. Conflict, Top-Down Unity via Enforcement, and Collaboration. Fire, earth and water.”

“So where’s air?” you ask skeptically.

Hundun the Chinese dragon sighs dramatically. “STEM students. Have you never heard of an analogy?”

“The Trains Run On Time, The Trains May Be Somewhat Delayed Because There Are a Lot of Trains, and When the Fuck Is This Train Showing Up?” Petra says.

“And you’re not making any of this up,” Hundun says, “because, trust me, you’re not that imaginative.”

[mintyiceberg]

A little piece...

Hi ! All right, so it's been exactly a year since I started working on this. Long story short, what I'm sharing is a portion of the first chapter of a story that has 28k words (aprox.). This work contains true life events from people I'm close to, but some parts were dramatised to match the plot. It also has a little bit of my twisted imagination, character wise. If you'd like to have a bit more background on what the story's about, I'd gladly make another post for it. :)

I'd also like to add that there are some blank spaces. The "___"s for example. These are just characters that I haven't decided a name for yet.

I wanted to share this to hopefully get some feedback on my writing, since English isn't my first language, and your own opinions on this. ;)

Word count;1k3 Characters; Morgan Black (Male), Lexi Bloodworth (Female) Omniscient narration Music recommended; Revolt Playlist (I recommend you play this playlist on shuffle)

Morgan was anxious to get away from the crowd. Therefore, he decided to take a seat in the black couches in the back and less crowded part of the place. He needed to breathe.

The lights were too bright for him. Even though he’s been here a couple of times, he still can’t get used to that. He couldn’t see any better after trying to block the light with his hands. How did anyone get used to walking in here without tripping over literally anything?

Although trying to be careful, he blindly sat next to someone. 

She looked at him, a little startled as to how he didn’t see her. 

To be fair, an all black dress-code perhaps isn’t as noticeable on black couches. She had a great camouflage. Except for her transparent heels with silver spikes all over them and silver covering the entire twelve centimetre high heel. Her legs were crossed and her arms spread along the back of the couch. Not to mention her ebony hair. If anything, the only things visible were her face and hands due to their pale grey hue. Very odd for a human being.

As soon as Morgan tried to lay his back on the couch, her arm unintentionally interrupted him from doing so. 

He jumped from his seat and set his back straight. Taken by surprise, he looked back to whoever was next to him.

Morgan - Oh ! I’m very sorry. I wasn’t really looking at who I sat next to. - He apologised. - Not that I could see where I was heading to begin with. - He muttered.

Lexi - Don’t worry about it. - He examined her, studying her voice and appearance. Finding her green eyes every now and then.

Morgan realised who he was talking to. He has heard of this person before, but never really paid attention to understand anything that his friends said about her. He did, however, overhear: ‘She’s always here’, ‘She’s always in black’, and ‘She always wears a mask’. He heard mask and Bloodworth in the same sentence one too many times. 

This had to be her. 

Who else would it be ?

Morgan - Lexi Bloodworth, right ? - She nodded slightly. The mask caught Morgan off guard. It resembled the skeleton mouth of some sort of animal.

Lexi - Yes. 

Her voice was deep and smooth. It sounded like the calm waves of a beach at midnight. All of a sudden it felt as if the loud music wasn’t so loud anymore. He could hear her perfectly clear without needing to shout. 

Lexi - What’s your name ? - Her velvety voice inquired, green eyes turned to Morgan’s direction.

Morgan - Morgan Black. Nice to meet you. - He couldn’t hide the nervousness in his voice. It was a habit of his to stutter every so often.

Lexi - Likewise. - She removed her back from the couch, along with her arms. She uncrossed her legs, and crossed her wrists between them in a swift motion. - I’ve seen you here before. Taking a break from every day ? - Even if her voice was tranquil, it made the atmosphere a bit heavy. Perhaps her tone is a bit rough. 

Morgan shrugged a bit.

Morgan - Actually, a couple of my friends come here regularly. I don’t. Not my thing.

Lexi - How come you’re here then ? - Her brows furrowed.

Morgan - They, uh, forced me to. My friend, Evan, practically dragged me to the car. All of them said I should have a night out, but I’m not into all the things they’re in. You see, I don’t really drink much, perhaps a beer with a low alcohol percentage and that’s it. All those other alcohols are just too strong for me. And-. - Morgan kept talking, but his voice started to fade in Lexi’s head.

She just stared at him with blank eyes. Didn’t move an inch. The mask hid a bit of that disinterest in his explanation of their dislike of alcohol. 

Despite her growing indifference, she was kind of glad that he tried to keep himself from even touching the stuff if he’s not into it.

Morgan - I, uh, I think I’m talking your ear off. - He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.

Lexi - Significantly.

The ice cubes in her  drink were starting to melt. Has he really been talking for that long ? Was the conversation too boring ? The answer was yes, but he was not aware of it.

Lexi - Anyhow, other than over explaining a preference, are you enjoying it here ? - He chuckled nervously.

Morgan - Yeah, I am.

Lexi - Welcome to Hell. Is it living up to your expectations ? - The way she interrogated puzzled him. He didn’t know how to respond to such a question. Of course he knew what he was being asked, but the delivery was odd.

After shuddering, he untied the knot inside his throat and spoke.

Morgan - Sure. Music’s great, I got myself a soft drink, the seats are comfortable, and it feels safe here. Why’d you ask ? - It took him a moment to understand whilst she just stared back with no expression and her arms returned to rest on the back of the seat. - Oh, you… Run this place ? -

Lexi - You sure are quick at connecting dots. - He stared back at her, somewhat clueless. 

This was a weird conversation. He’s heard a few things about her. He didn't fear her, but this friend-like talk she was having with him felt strange. The way her voice sounded was off too. It sounded as if she were tired, but also at ease and observant. It made him feel calm too.

Morgan - How do you do that ? - There were so many different answers to this question.

Lexi - Can’t really reveal a secret. However, I’ll give ___ credit, she makes magic. - She said as she tilted her head back as if to untense herself. 

Morgan - Is ___ the girl over there ? The one changing the music ?

Lexi - Yes.

Morgan - Magic, huh ?

Morgan looked towards the dance floor, where his friends were. It’s true. Every single person was dancing. They could’ve been the only ones actually sitting down. 

Even the bartenders were dancing in their places or bobbing their heads to the music. 

It seemed incredible how this place was full. It felt somewhat unusual. In its own way hypnotising, blissful, and timeless. This place was a different reality, for sure.

Morgan snapped out of his daydream and cleared his throat.

Lexi - You seem nervous, everything okay ?

Morgan - Yeah. Like I said, this isn’t the place I’d usually choose to chill. Besides, meeting the owner of such a place is an occasion I’m not used to.

Lexi - Hmm. All right then, I won’t make your nervous system go into overdrive. 

Morgan - Oh, that’s not what I-. - She interrupted.

Lexi - Don’t worry about it. I have things to do anyway. - She gracefully got up from the seat and gently shook her coat. - I hope you continue to enjoy your night, Morgan. 

Morgan - Thank you, likewise.

Lexi took her glass and the spikes on her heels shined with every step she took. Her style of walking was so different. Morgan paid attention to every movement she made. One foot in front of the other, arms dancing by her sides, and her hips, waist and shoulders moved in the shape of an S. It was elegant and confident. Morgan blinked rapidly twice. She disappeared.

While he sat alone, he took a few more sips of his canned soda and got lost deep in his own thoughts.

Questions were swimming inside his mind. He couldn’t digest the fact that the owner of a place such as the ‘Revolt’ had talked to him. That never happens. Yes, she could’ve just been polite to him to make everyone feel welcome, but this felt specifically odd. 

Her presence felt like a complete mystery. When he looked at her, he felt relaxed, but, for some bizarre reason, heavy. 

The biggest question in his head was that mask. Did she really have to put one so… Eccentric ? 

Morgan had the sudden wish to look at what was under it. She was hiding something. He wanted to know what that was.